Thus, Kawasaki Saki Strikes
by Slalem
Summary: A peculiar request from an unexpected acquaintance pressures Hachiman into joining her part-time gig. Unbeknownst to him, however, the girl's true intentions may be far more profound and convoluted than he might have anticipated.
1. I

_**As of the time of me typing this, the Golden State Warriors have won the NBA Finals, and I've come to realize that I'll be without basketball for a few months. What better way to lament than with a story featuring everyone's favorite loner? No, I'm not crying. You're crying.**_

 ** _This little story has been sitting in my mind for a while now_** _ **. Motivation and I have an on-off relationship, but I would like to develop this idea further. Kawasaki is grossly underrepresented in this community, and I think it's high time someone changed that.**_

 _ **Done babbling. Enjoy the story.**_

* * *

 _ **And so, Hikigaya Hachiman confronts his greatest fear.**_

I, Hikigaya Hachiman, experienced loner and future house husband, despise working.

What is there to gain from such a practice? Money? Friends? The sense of duty you feel from contributing to the overall productivity of your country? Perhaps. A valid argument could be made from either one of those three reasons. To work is to progress, after all, and progression is made through the amount of work you exude through it.

But, what of the inverse theory? What is there to gain from not working? An easy answer would be time, which you could argue is more important than any of the three points made above. The value of time trumps all. For what is money if you have no time to spend it? Friends with whom you cannot spend time with? A duty to your country if no time is put forth into being productive? A waste, most certainly.

I pride myself on how I use my time. Rather than stoop to society's level and fall for the trap of becoming a corporate slave, I live my life in my own visage. My way of life is dictated by me, not by those around me. My ability to think for myself is my gift from God. And my ability to refuse to work is something I will cherish for the rest of my gloriously sufficient life.

But yet, I cannot help but wonder. What is there to gain from working? Is there a possible benefit that I might have overlooked? A certain aspect of working unknown to the world, even to me? These thoughts have plagued my mind for some time now, and frankly, it's hard to ignore.

Kawa... something provides a great example of the possible effects of getting a job. She sleeps, smokes, and locks herself away from literally almost everyone. Her eyes are almost as rotten as mine, and though she keeps her grades above failing, she's nowhere near a top student. As I surmised, the effects of work are fatal indeed.

But still, there exist benefits. Her reasons for working are just, and though she doesn't seem to enjoy it, the sense of fulfillment seems to be enough for her. Is that feeling enough to overshadow all of the downfalls of working? Perhaps there really is more than meets the eye when it comes to filthy, filthy employment.

Plus, she's kind of nice. She can be a real sweetheart when she wants to be.

A strange feeling of knowingness washes over me. _'Wait... if I somehow got Kawasomething to provide for me, I could finally make my dream of living as a modern day house-husband a reality!'_

Admittedly, we weren't the best of friends, but that was simply due to a lack of contact! With a few "accidental" run-ins here and there, and maybe a few visits to her job, we could be cozied up with our future children in our obnoxiously large house in no time at—!

"Hikigaya-kun," A voice rang out to me, ripping me from my thoughts. Glancing over, I noticed Yukinoshita giving me her trademark cold stare. Yuigahama looked worried.

A sigh from across the table was heard, followed by her disappointed tone. "Did you even hear what I was saying?"

I considered lying to be one of my strong points, but everything went out the window when it came to this damn woman. "Afraid not, sorry."

"As expected from such a low-level creature like yourself. You'll only pay attention to anything that's half-naked."

I frowned disapprovingly. "I believe you've mistaken me for the likes of Zaimokuza. I take that in the highest offense."

Yukinoshita was quick to retort, eyes narrowing in the process. "You must think you're hilarious, HikkiNEET."

"Well, I'm certainly the funniest person _you_ know."

"You're revolting."

"Glad to hear it. What were we talking about?"

"I received a request earlier today!" Yuigahama exclaimed, as if it were an achievement. She had apparently grown rather adept at ignoring Yukinoshita and I's constant banter. "She'll be coming by later this afternoon to discuss her problem with us."

"You're proud of the fact that we have to work?" I asked, incredulous. Did the energy of normal people know no bounds? "Better yet, they asked _you_ for advice?"

Her cheeks puffed angrily. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She was right. That sounded a little harsh. "I mean, if they had a request, wouldn't they just come to us after school? Seems like a lot of extra work just to let you know beforehand."

Yuigahama shifted, looking uncomfortable. "She said she didn't want to make a scene."

"There's literally only three of us here. You'd make much more of a scene than Yukinoshita and I combined."

Deep down, I felt bad for how often the social girl got teased. Then again, she deserved it for being a filthy commoner controlled by the spells of normal society.

"I-I would not!" The girl stammered, practically glowing with embarrassment. "Jeez, you're such a jerk, Hikki!"

Yukinoshita decided to end the bickering. "Who requested our services?"

Another nod from Yuigahama. "She wanted to wait until she arrived here." I sighed again, miffed. Could this girl be any more spineless? It was probably one of Hayama's innumerable followers trying to get him to notice her.

I leaned back into my chair, remaining on the topic of Hayama's obedient little fangirls. "If it's Miura trying to get us to attract Hayama for her, I vote that we kick her out."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I concur with Hikigaya-kun." Yukinoshita agreed. So she _did_ have a heart after all.

Yuigahama didn't appear to be very fond of our comments. It's not like I cared, though— that spoiled blonde brat needed some sense beaten into her. I certainly didn't have the physical capabilities to do it, but I could try. How tough were girls anyway?

"Well, at least promise that you'll give it your all for whoever it is that walks through the door," Yuigahama purposely glanced at me when she spoke. Personally, I felt attacked. I only dirtied myself with the big jobs, not trivial matters such as meaningless confessions to a pretentious, arrogant riajuu. It didn't even matter that he was, in some sense, a nice guy. He was still an ass who knew nothing about reality.

As for myself? I would happily let that blonde wannabe hero have all the females in the world, if it meant I got to kept my ability to think critically and make decisions for myself. I didn't have time for society anyways— a monster of logic like myself was perfectly content with letting the monkeys inhabiting this world slowly bring it to its demise.

People like him were the reason that love was considered so important in the first place. Though it was nothing more than an illusion compelling the idiots on this planet to breed, he openly encouraged it, spreading a false sermon about how love "could solve anything", and how it willed us to "put our best foot forward". It was like something from a crappy shounen manga.

Even though it was all an act designed to satisfy the people around him, that trait of his would be his clique's downfall. It would burn out in a blaze of terrible glory for all to see. The relationships he had built would come tumbling down around him, and he wouldn't be able to do anything but flash that winning smile of his and move on. It was all he had learned to do.

But I knew the truth. Love was almost always false. A lie constructed by society built to shield people from how harsh reality was. Something for people to dote on at home, wishing that their lives were anything like what they saw on TV or read in tabloids and novels, trying their best to ignore that their own world was collapsing into a series of monotonous events made by their own weak-willed hands, and that nothing they did could change who they had become.

Though it was absolutely sickening to admit, a part of my naïve self could believe that "true love" existed. However, any real, genuine love was quickly demolished by the jealous masses, envious of what they didn't have. Like a spoiled child denied a toy. Such acts had become commonplace in normal society, especially in high schools. I had been witnessing it firsthand.

The world was souring— it wouldn't be long before it went to hell in a handbasket. And I wouldn't miss it for anything.

I glanced at Yukinoshita, who was engrossed in a book I had never seen before. Deep down, I knew she agreed with me. Loathe as we both were to admit it, our minds were one in the same. Loners on different sides of the social spectrum, but with similar aspects of society and reality. Truly, we made a scary duo.

"Hikki, why are you smiling so suddenly? It's gross."

Yes, the world would certainly burn one day. I'd be sure of it.

A knock on the door drew our club's attention, accompanied by the sound of the door sliding open. A soft voice rang out, "Excuse me," one that felt vaguely familiar to me.

That's when I saw her— long, slender legs, followed by an equally lengthy amount of azure hair. An expression that pierced the heavens, with a beauty mark placed squarely under the right eye. She made her way inside the room, awkwardly shuffling by the door.

Speak of the working-class teenager, and she shall appear.

"Ah, Kawasaki-chan, you made it!" Yuigahama chirped aloud. Was the default noise setting for social people always that high? I'd need to contact customer service.

She spoke shyly— a rarity, since she always acted so calm and collected when I interacted with her. Offhandedly, I wondered if she was still wearing Black Lace. It looked nice on her.

"Pardon the intrusion," She kept her normally intense eyes downcast, and made her way to the seat Yukinoshita had set out for her. Retreating momentarily, the dark-haired girl brought back a cup of tea and placed it in neatly in front of the girl, prompting a quiet thanks.

It'd been some time since I last conversed with Kawasomething. She was a bit of a rare sight these days— between her job and caring for her siblings, she was almost always busy. Her schedule must have been getting even more hectic, as she had begun to skip more and more days of school. Hiratsuka-sensei understood, thankfully, and didn't punish her for her repeated absences.

She looked the same as she always did. Her hair was pulled into a long ponytail, and she had tied her jacket around her waist. Modest, like her personality.

My thoughts drifted back to my previous monologue concerning the girl before me, and I was forced to suppress an uncomfortable cough.

"Kawasaki-san," Yukinoshita spoke, a tiny smile adorning her pristine features. "It's nice to see you again."

"Likewise," The girl replied, regaining a bit of that regal presence she was known for. "Again, thank you for last time. Your assistance was extremely valuable, and I've been doing much better since then."

"Of course!" Yuigahama beamed. "We're always glad to help!"

I choose to remain silent, watching the scene from afar. At least it hadn't been Miura.

But then again, what could Kawasomething possibly want? She certainly wasn't the type of person to ask for help. She was fiercely independent, and only asked for help only when it was absolutely necessary— even then, assistance was minimal.

 _'Must be serious then,'_ I sighed. Something told me that this wasn't going to be a simple run-of-the-mill Hayama request.

Taking a quick sip from her tea cup, Yukinoshita seated herself comfortably before speaking again. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Kawasaki-san?"

"Well... it's nothing major," Kawasaki nervously rubbed her arm. "To be honest, it's kind of silly..."

"Nonsense! Nothing is too silly!" Yuigahama, ever the enthusiastic, raved before her. Sometimes it was hard to tell her apart from her own excitable dog.

"Yeah, well..." Kawasaki continued, eyes drifting towards me. I was in very little rush to be involved in this conversation. Think of me more as an NPC bystander.

Though, for the club's sake, I supposed that I had to put forth at least some modicum of effort. I decided to let myself be known. "Alright, what is it?"

She regained her composure before speaking. "Lately, there's been a series of... incidents occurring near the general area of my night job. It's been a bit hard on the community, and everyone's really high on alert. People are starting to get concerned."

From across the room, I was able to see Yuigahama hanging on to every word. Yukinoshita listened with intrigue, hand resting politely in front of her mouth.

"It's late at night, and my house is a little far from where I work, so..."

"You don't feel comfortable going home alone." Yukinoshita finished for her. Kawasaki nodded in response.

"... Basically."

"Have you tried contacting authorities?" Yukinoshita pushed forward, eyeing Kawasaki.

"Yes. They don't offer any sort of escort service, especially since the police force is as small enough as it is."

Rubbing her chin, Yukinoshita willed herself into deep thought. It was a face I personally knew well. Nothing good normally came from that expression, unfortunately, especially for me.

"I see..."

And suddenly, all eyes were on me.

"What?"

"Jeez, Hikki! Learn to read the room!" Yuigahama reprimanded me. Since when did you gain the authority and permission to reprimand me, an intellectual?

"I think our next course of action is rather simple," Continuing, Yukinoshita pointed a feminine finger at me. "Hikigaya-kun, you will be tasked with escorting Kawasaki-san home after work."

My jaw dropped, almost comically. Today was just _not_ my day.

"Why me? Can't we all take turns escorting her home?"

"No. You live close to Kawasaki-san, if I'm not mistaken— certainly closer than Yuigahama-san and I do." Nonchalantly, she moved a long stray hair behind her ears. "Besides, having a lady escort another lady hardly counts as effective protection."

Pulling the woman card effectively? Classic Yukinoshita. I'd applaud you were I not seething in disapproval.

"Do you know how late she likely gets off at?" I asked, eyeing Kawasaki. She didn't seem to like the attention she was getting. "I can hardly afford to destroy my sleeping schedule for a mere club task. Such a routine would indefinitely affect my livelihood in a negative way."

"Oh?" Yukinoshita looked unconvinced. "I was under the impression that you spent a majority of your evening hours reading those disgusted, perverted light novels you're so very fond of. Am I mistaken?"

"First off, they're not perverted. They're carefully constructed pieces of forbidden, elaborate fantasy-drama. Second, if they _did_ happen to be perverted, I wouldn't have bought them in the first place. What kind of guy do you take me for?"

Yukinoshita and Yuigahama simultaneously blanched as soon as I finished asking. I was beginning to wonder if those two got off on teaming up against me. I wouldn't be all that surprised if it were true.

Though, disregarding any prejudices within the club, I imagined that this must have been extremely awkward for Kawasaki. She'd never witnessed any of my legendary verbal battles with the infamous Ice Queen before. She must have thought that we genuinely hated each other.

"Well, actually..." Kawasaki returned to the conversation. "Some of the incidents I told you about... happened right outside of my workplace."

Gasping, Yuigahama brought a hand to her mouth in shock. "Really? That's so scary!" Please, Yuigahama, don't encourage her.

"So... I was kind of hoping that Hachi— I mean, Hikigaya-kun, could... you know..."

"Know what?" Yukinoshita and Yuigahama asked in unison.

Blushing madly, Kawasaki struggled to finish her sentence. Her eyes met my own, filled with uncertainty and embarrassment. This must have been agonizing for her, to have to forfeit her own independence and ask for help from acquaintances.

"... if you were willing to apply for a position... a-and... work with me?"

Oh.

 _Oh._

"Absolutely not." I replied immediately.

"W-why?!" The azure-haired girl stammered. She looked as if she had been emotionally stabbed through the heart. This was so _unlike_ her, I kept reminding myself.

"I am not joining the workforce and destroying my entire sleeping schedule just so you can add a needless extra precaution."

"Hikki! You heard her!" Protesting, Yuigahama raised a defiant hand in my direction. "There were crimes committed just outside of her job! You're really just gonna force her to deal with it by herself?"

Well, golly, when you put it like that, you make it sound like I'm some apathetic protagonist of a crappy light novel series. How rude. I'm nothing of the sort.

"I'd expect nothing less of Hikigaya-kun," Yukinoshita piled on top of Yuigahama's comment with one of her one, eyeing me with open disgust. "He _is_ the lowest of the low, after all."

"Go ahead and berate me all you want," I challenged, leaning back into my chair. "I've heard it all before. Do your worst."

"Pervert."

"Jerk!"

"Loser."

"Idiot!"

"Disgusting womanizer."

"Disgusting womanizer!"

"You two just said the same thing."

They could keep this up for as long as they wanted to. I had already previously mastered one of my One-Hundred-and-Eight Loner Skills— Insult Immunity!

Unfortunately, the two women beside me were incredibly resilient when it came to insulting me. Had they been practicing in private? Was this the day they had been longing for, dreaming of an opportunity to insult me into extinction? Such a day would be quite troublesome for myself, a lover of all things peaceful and orderly. At least, in my own, twisted version of peace and order.

I found myself thoroughly surprised. They kept it up for ten straight minutes. _Ten. Straight. Minutes._

"Horrendous Hikikomori."

"Hikigaya, King of the Jerks!"

"The Inscrutable Scumbag."

"More dense than Osmium!... I think..."

This was starting to get annoying. _Extremely_ annoying _._

Even so, I had to remember my training. My very origins of lonerhood had trained me for this moment. You could do it, Hachiman. Their words can't hurt you. You're the loneliest loner to ever grace the earth! A few petty insults here and there weren't enough to shake your impenetrable state of mi—

"The Irreversible Virgin."

Okay, that's enough.

"Fine! You win! I'll do whatever the hell you want me to do! Just _please_ shut up!"

From her side of the table, Yukinoshita happily allowed herself what looked to be a tiny, shit-eating grin. "Now, was that so hard?"

I swear, I'm going to verbally beat that woman to tears some day.

Kawasaki looked at me with what looked to be hope shimmering in her eyes. "You're... serious?" Did you not just hear my resignation literally seconds ago?

"Yeah, sure, whatever. How long am I going to be doing this?"

The girl had apparently calmed the nerves in her stomach, as she spoke with an apparent newfound clarity. "Only until the incidents die down. After that, you're free to go."

"When do we start?"

Somewhat abashedly, Kawasaki rubbed her arm sleeve. "Actually, I was hoping we could start as soon as possible... does tonight sound reasonable?"

Honestly, nothing about this entire situation sounded reasonable. But sure, why not? It wasn't like I had anything important going on anyways. Sleep was for the weak, right? "I guess."

"Alright, good," Kawasaki sighed, a great deal of stress visibly lifted off of her. "Meet me at the Royal Okura Hotel tonight at nine. Don't be late, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," The girl repeated, beginning to gather her things. "Again, thank you for agreeing to this. I'd feel much safer if someone were with me during this sort of thing."

I was then reminded that Kawasaki was not a very selfish person. It must have taken her a great deal of effort to have to swallow her pride and ask for help, especially for something involving her private life. It was likely just as hard for her to ask as it was for me to accept.

"Don't mention it," I gave her a tiny (and equally forced) smile, out of courtesy. Oddly enough, however, her face reddened. Was she sick or something? Gross.

"I-I'll be taking my leave then. See you tonight," Stammering, my classmate made a somewhat frantic exit from the clubroom, returning it to its normal member count. Groaning, I leaned back into my chair.

"This sucks. Why can't I just catch a break?"

When I wasn't met with any witty comments or quips like I was expecting, I turned my attention to both of my female club mates in curiosity. Yuigahama's eyes were narrowed and her cheeks were puffed, while Yukinoshita was glaring daggers that were much colder than usual at me.

A bit nervously, I gave them a confused look. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong, you insensitive jerk!"

"Die."

Ah, yes— the world would indefinitely burn someday.

* * *

The Royal Okura Hotel was, in every sense of the word, a place of luxury.

It was definitely a large building. One would certainly be able to notice it from a lengthy distance away. Adorned with unique lighting patterns and a trendy, modern design, the hotel stood out far more than any of its neighboring establishments. Furthermore, it was famed for its grandiose setting, which translated into its individual rooms. Such a reputation was hard to uphold, but the Royal Okura stood proud nevertheless.

However, it was notorious for being high-class. Common folk (like myself) had hardly such an occasion in which renting a room would be recommended and affordable. A single night's rent was the equivalent to a quarter-monthly rent anywhere else. Truly, it was a safe haven for the upper class, to whom the Royal Okura was designed for. How Kawasaki managed to earn a position there was beyond my own thinking.

It was baffling. Was the upper class so self absorbed with themselves that they felt the need to be surrounded by luxury at all times, even as they traveled? Gourmet meals, pampered services, towels folded into the shapes of various animals— such trivial things were foreign to proud commoners like myself. What was the point? Was living like a normal person so undesirable to these people? Were they so pretentious, snooty, and opinionated that they felt the need to congratulate themselves for being successful, arrogant douches, even while they were alone? Such ideas were so immensely despicable and unholy, and I felt my disdain for the privileged only grow in prevalence within my heart and soul.

"Achoo!"

It was cold outside. Not quite stay-inside-no-matter-what type weather, but definitely not warm enough to go outside without layers. My lucky trench managed to keep me warm, and somewhat stylish— Komachi refused to let me out of the house in anything she deemed as "raggedy", especially once she found out that I was to be out with company. The little sister entity was both a blessing and a curse.

The streets were busy, despite the late night hours beginning to set in. The bustling city followed its own sense of time, apparently. I was beginning to see why Kawasaki was so afraid of traveling alone. With all of these people around, any one of them could be a potential criminal in disguise.

I neared the Royal Okura, and gradually, Kawasaki Saki came into view. Her head was swiveling at an odd pace. She seemed to be doing a lot of weird things as of late.

She was able to spot me a couple blocks away from where she was standing, her eyes illuminated under the multiple streetlights. She casually walked to me, digging her hands into her own thick jacket. It was a color similar to mine. Did all girls have the same sense of fashion?

As she neared me, her eyes revealed a bit of impatience. "You're late."

I took a calculated look at my watch. "Actually, I'm right on time. You're just early."

"Didn't your parents ever teach you to never keep a lady waiting?"

I rolled my eyes. Who did this woman think she was? "Quit patronizing me, it's cold. Let's get inside."

Thankfully, she at least seemed to share in my discomfort, and we both made our way inside the hotel. I was hit with a gust of warm air, and was treated with a wave of satisfaction. Unfortunately, this sudden comfort only made me sleepier, which was the exact thing I had been trying to avoid.

The entrance of the hotel was still what I remembered it as; exceedingly dramatic. Bright lights shone excessively throughout the main lobby, and my nose was immediately assaulted with a scent I suppose many would call pleasant. Shiny objects littered the place. I couldn't look in ay direction without being reminded of how high-class the establishment was.

Ignoring the likely many prominent and wealthy people I was surrounded by, I continued a few steps behind Kawasaki into a nearby lift. Managing to reserve one all to ourselves, my classmate quickly hit one of the many gleaming buttons, and we slowly made our ascent to the higher levels of the building.

The elevator trip up was awkward, to say the least. Not a word had been spoken between us, so I had no choice but to stare at the wall thoughtlessly. Eventually, though, my curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck a glance towards Kawasaki.

Her face was flushed. Whether it was from standing in the cold for an extended period of time or something else, I couldn't tell. Her eyes were alert and awake, despite the waning hours of the day. I would assume it to be due to her tendency to work late.

She was shifting her weight uncomfortably on each leg. Seriously, why was she acting so weird? Did someone replace the normal Kawasaki with a shy, awkward mess? Was the real Kawasaki being held hostage in some unknown location?

It was definitely off-putting, but oddly enough, I was drawn to her. The way her eyes would flutter nervously, and the way she ran a feminine hand through her long, lustrous hair was strangely alluring. She softly bit her lip, and her cheeks flushed even more, as she dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets. Was she nervous? Anxious? I was beginning to have trouble trying to get a solid read on her.

"Hikigaya?"

My eyes refocused on her. "Uh, yes?"

"You're... staring."

Smooth, Hachiman. Real smooth.

"I, uh... sorry."

Her eyes narrowing slightly, she turned away, before muttering softly into her hand.

The elevator dinged, and before I could even comprehend what was happening, Kawasaki was already out, walking at a brisk pace down the hallway. Blinking, I eventually regained my nerve and followed her, desperately trying to ease the sudden tightness in my chest.

In the back of my mind, I was a bit glad. Things might have gotten even weirder if I had stayed in that elevator with her much longer.

I followed a few steps behind her as we neared another elaborate-looking entrance. I remembered it as the door leading to where she worked. Based on looks alone, it was easy to guess the quality of the place simply based on how sparkling clean the door handle looked.

I didn't have much time to reintroduce myself to the room once we entered, as Kawasaki was apparently focused on getting me wherever she wanted me to be at in as little time possible. I had vague memories of it from my last visit with the club, and from what I was able to see, not much had changed. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get a head count of the room as I was dragged through another set of doors labeled "employees only".

The room was certainly more desolate than I had originally thought. In fact, there was no one else present barring myself and Kawasaki. In a single motion, Kawasaki flipped on an extra set of lights to help illuminate the room, before turning and calling out to someone through another hallway. "Oshino, we're here!"

Curious, I turned to the girl. "Who's Oshino?"

"My employer," She replied calmly. "Don't worry, this won't take long."

My eyes scrunched together slightly. "What won't take long?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a booming voice announced itself through the hallway Kawasaki had yelled in. "Sorry I'm late!" A rather charismatic-looking man jogged his way into the room, a sickeningly wide grin plastered on his face. It got even wider as he laid his eyes on me. Unconsciously, I shifted my hands to cover my rear.

"Hello there, friend! The name's Oshino Yakaza, but you can just call me Oshino!"

The man, Oshino, was quick to move near me. He was taller than I imagined, and looked rather to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. He had on formal looking attire, and his blonde hair was combed back neatly. "You must be the friend Kawasaki mentioned!" A flurry of cheerful emotions crossed the man's face as he circled me. "Oh, I'm so glad you came! Kawasaki-chan hardly ever talks about anyone, so I couldn't help but be excited when she started talking about bringing a friend from school over to help us!"

I could only stare uncomfortably as Oshino continued his rambling. The amount of pure happiness exuding from his presence was so overwhelming, I felt as though I would drown in it. _This_ was who Kawasaki worked for near daily?

Wait, she already told them I was coming? Even before I had agreed?

"You must be one tough cookie if you managed to wiggle your way into being Kawasaki's friend. She's as blue-collared as they come!" A knowing and somewhat mischievous look then made its way on to his features. "Oh... wait a minute. _I_ see what's going on here," Sliding over to the aforementioned girl, he lightly jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow as he spoke. "Geez, Kawasaki-chan, why didn't you _tell_ me it was like that? His eyes are a little weird, but to each their own, right? Maybe I can help you both hook—"

A loud cough coming from Kawasaki's direction interrupted the man's loud musings. "W-well then, now that introductions are out of the way, why don't we get down to business?"

"Ah, so straightforward. I'd expect nothing less from you, Kawasaki-chan." Sighing, the man pulled up two chairs, one for me and another for himself. After a tiny thanks, I sat before him, Kawasaki standing not too far to the side.

"So, what's your name, friend?"

I gulped. Interviewing already? I hadn't thought much about preparing, and I was only now feeling woefully underprepared for having to talk with another human being. Welp, looked like it was time to disappoint people again!

Though, I was somewhat curious as to what would happen if I purposely bombed this interview. I was quick to change my train of thought— Kawsaki would probably castrate me if I did something like that.

"My name is Hikigaya Hachiman. I'm in the same class as Kawasaki-san. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Hey, not a bad start. Maybe all that work in the club was beginning to help my social skills?

"Ah, Hikigaya-kun," Oshino said, seeming to test how my name rolled off his tongue. "Very lovely. So, what are your skills?"

My brain froze. "... skills?"

The man's smile never faltered. "Yes, skills. Anything you're particularly good at?"

I began to sweat. Oshino had asked me the hardest question I had ever faced in my young life. Things I was _good at?_ Did such a thing even exist?

I quickly backtracked. I had to keep my calm, but I couldn't just ignore the question. There wasn't any skip button. I had to slay the proverbial dragon by myself. It was now or never.

"Well, I'm good at taste-testing. I'm also rather skilled at problem-solving."

It was silent for a moment. I began to mentally kick myself. Taste-testing? In what way is that a _skill?_ Outside of Komachi's cooking, I found it hard to accurately judge anyone's meal in any capacity, much less in a critically professional one. It didn't help that tasting Yuigahama's cookies had somewhat permanently scarred my taste buds for the rest of my lifetime.

Even the problem-solving suggestion was questionable, depending on who you asked. I might as well have told the dude straight up that I was a talentless loser with not special traits at all.

As I continued to internally implode, Oshino began to stroke his perfectly-styled goatee. "Taste-testing, hm...?"

I didn't dare look over in Kawasaki's direction. I didn't know if I had it in me to face her ragging on me.

However, Oshino continued to ponder, nodding his head almost comically as he carefully debated my answer. "Problem solving... taste-testing..." He continued to recite my answer, as if it were someone's name he vaguely remembered.

Then, he shot me another dazzling smile and returned to his excited form of speech. "Great! You're hired!"

Well, that was it. I tried my hardest, and came up many miles short once again. My inability to properly act like a normal human being in public had foiled my plans of participating in social settings once again. Maybe Kawasaki wouldn't beat me up too badly, if I just—

Wait.

Did he say that _I'm hired?_

I spoke cautiously, as to not seem too suspicious over what the man had said. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Of course, Hikigaya-kun," Oshino obliged. "You're hired. Welcome aboard!"

The magnitude of what had just happened was finally starting to kick in. That's it? That was literally all it took? I had barely even begun talking, and now I was employed. How'd this happen?

"Hmm, since you're a bit new to this, we should probably have you start with something easy..." Rubbing his head, as if attempting to jumpstart his brain, it appeared as though he had drawn blanks. "I'll decide that later. For now, stick with Kawasaki-chan and help her with anything she needs assistance with, alright? I'll give you details later!"

I could only nod idiotically, still in a bit of a daze. Before I had even a second to question Oshino's logic (or lack thereof), he scampered off while singing some cutesy tune, leaving Kawasaki and I alone again.

I was floored. I obviously hadn't been mentally prepared for this, but not in the way I had imagined. I was expecting some hard-nosed, stick-up-the-ass superior who demanded class and excellence at all times. Such a man would certainly fit the Royal Okura's status quo.

Instead, however, I was greeted by a man who looked to have been more at home in a circus than a bar. I could certainly understand Kawasaki's exasperation with Oshino. He was the definition of a handful.

Though, he was my employer now. After that dizzying episode, I'd have to seriously try to make this whole job thing work. If not for my sake, for Kawasaki's.

I turned to said girl, hoping to get her reasonable opinion of this entire debacle. However, I was met with something that temporarily stunned me— rather than look and act confused, as I had expected, she was doing the opposite; softly, she was smiling, unsuccessfully attempting to hide it behind her own hand. I hadn't seen such an act from her, ever. Had she come down with some kind of disease? To think of Kawasaki acting like a normal girl was bizarre, even for me.

Eventually, though, she caught my staring, and quickly reverted back into the regular Kawasaki, addressing me with her trademark aggression. "W-What?"

I decided against delving into her strange actions further. Such an act would undoubtedly make her defensive, something I knew wouldn't be terribly smart. Women of any sort were not to be trifled with.

"Nothing, sorry."

An odd silence filled the room after she spoke. That weird feeling of intrigue I had felt before in the elevator returned briefly. I was beginning to seriously question the nature of this sudden burst of nerves.

Carefully, almost insufferably so, I angled my eyes towards the girl across from me. She looked to be in a similar state of thought. Were we both confused? It was logical— we were both bad with feelings. Arguably the worst in our school. Hell, we'd gotten entangled with each other in the first place in part because of our conflicting ideologies and emotions.

While I struggled with my own thoughts, I heard Kawasaki make her presence known yet again. "Well, welcome to the team, I guess," She ran a hand through her hair, before turning and heading towards the bar area. "Come on, I'll show you the ropes. Trust me, it's easier than it looks."

Standing, I made to follow her. "Is it really?"

"Yeah. Just stick by me."

I raised my hands and rested them atop my head. "Just stick by you, huh..."

Halting suddenly, however, Kawasaki stopped and quickly jogged over to a nearby closet, opening its contents and pulling out what looked to be clothes. "Here, change in to this."

She tossed them to me, and after I nearly fumbled them to the ground, I managed to get a good look at the garments. "... Isn't this what you wear?"

A tiny tinge of red made its way to her face as she answered me. "Well, sort of. This is our uniform. Sorry if it's not your size," Kawasaki then glanced in the direction her boss ran to. "We'll have to get you fitted sometime soon..."

I stared awkwardly at her, clutching the clothes in my hand and hoping she was getting the message my eyes were trying to tell her. After a good couple of seconds, she stiffened and took a step back.

"R-Right, I should let you change," Taking a couple more steps, she made to leave. "I'll go get myself ready... I'll be waiting."

And with that, my classmate and now coworker hustled out of the room, leaving me to my own devices.

I carefully glanced at the clothes I had received. Honestly, even if they were spares in a somewhat nasty closet, they still looked kind of nice. They added some sort of professionalism to whoever wore them. If only Yukinoshita could see me now.

Painfully smiling to myself, I quickly undressed and redressed myself in the uniform, and made my way towards the bar.

* * *

"Honestly, you should bring some of that coffee you always drink with you next time. That'd probably help a lot."

Breathing some warmth into my gloved hands, I shot Kawasaki a look. "You think I don't know that?"

By now, we were deep into the waning hours of the night. The moon shone in full force above us, illuminating the sky along with the trillions of stars beside it. Were I someone of good character and morals, I might have been tempted to call the night a beautiful one.

Kawasaki and I had worked until about two in the morning. Currently, I was escorting the girl to her home, keeping a careful eye out for potential criminals. As unreasonable and pointless as it was, Kawasaki had requested it, and as a member of the Service Club, I had to oblige her order.

Even in the late hours of the evening, Kawasaki still looked awake. Her eyes looked the same as they did during the school day, perhaps even more attentive than usual. It seemed she was a nightwalker, like myself. At the very least, it was something we had in common.

The job itself, as Kawasaki had promised, wasn't particularly challenging. To my relief, the night had been rather slow, and Kawasaki had more of a chance to teach me how to pour, mix, and serve. That was the first real time I felt like an actual adult in my life, even though it meant I was a few steps closer to forcibly working myself to death in a cubicle.

Plus, she was a surprisingly good teacher. Another sudden tidbit about her I hadn't known previously.

Still, I was anxious to get her home. While she may have been just fine with how late it was, I most certainly was not. My bed was beckoning to me, and I could never deny my mistress. She was the Cleopatra to my Marc Antony, the Juliet to my Romeo. Life was nothing without she of the bedsheets and pillows.

If my eyes were dead before, they were years deceased by now. I could _feel_ the disgust and grotesqueness oozing from them. It was a wonder that I hadn't scared off Kawasaki yet. Au contraire, she seemed to be taking her sweet time, sparing a few passing glances at the buildings we walked by.

"Hey, Hachiman."

I stumbled a little. That was the first time I'd heard her say my real name in a long time. And for her to say it so boldly and out of the blue! "What's up?"

"Do you think I'm weird?"

An odd question. Had I been indicating as such? "What brought that up?"

She gave me a rather annoyed look. "Just answer the question, dumbass."

That was harsh. Did she really want an answer that badly? Fine then. Have it your way.

"If I were to judge that question on your innate and wholeheartedly irrational idea of dragging me along to your workplace, forcefully employing me under a boss who is entirely aware that both of us are underage for this particular line of work, and making me walk you home during ungodly hours at night, then yes, you are a bit of a weirdo."

As expected, she didn't look too pleased with my choice of words. Thankfully, however, I had a backup plan.

"But, I can at least agree on the idea that what you're doing is for the benefit of others." I rubbed the back of my head, careful not to set off any emotional landmines around the girl. "Though I despise any sort of work, considering your particular circumstances, I think it's perfectly reasonable."

She'd stopped walking. Mentally, I reviewed my words, looking for any sort of phrase or double-meaning that might have set her off. I was sure that I had avoided any sort of conveyed message that invited confrontation. What I'd said was honest and straightforward, but sweetened just a little bit. For effect.

Putting those thoughts away, I glanced at the girl to my left. She was staring ahead, a somewhat blank and contemplative look on her face. Like she was lost in her own world. It was an expression I personally knew very well.

Kawasaki continued to stand quietly. She was like a statue— still and quiet. Unmoving, save for the soft, gentle flowing of her hair and wardrobe. I felt as if I stared too long, I myself would become mesmerized by her very existence. This was a feeling I hadn't felt before— and honestly, it was scaring me a little.

I don't understand a lot of things. There are still many things in this world I need to figure out. If I am ever to find something genuine, to ever reach happiness with myself— something I'm still not sure is possible for someone like myself— I needed to understand what made people who they were. Why they did things the way they did. Why the feelings and emotional baggage people came with existed at all.

As I stood there staring, I then realized that Kawasaki Saki was perhaps the newest enigma I had unwillingly stumbled upon.

"To hear that from you means a lot," Kawasaki broke me from my thoughts, turning towards me. Seeing her smile was a rarity— seeing it directed at me only enhanced the unusual nature of what was transpiring. My heartbeat began to quicken once again.

Why was I suddenly like this? I was a monster of logic. A being who denied any and all types of useless emotions. I was sure of my identity— I had buried those feelings of love, compassion and kinship within me back in middle school. I was certain I had.

Love was a lie. Love was something constructed by man as a coping mechanism. Love was for filthy love-on-the-brains, a demographic I was certainly not part of.

So why was she evoking these feelings out of me?

"It's nothing special," I eventual got around to replying to her. "I'm sure you've heard it before."

She turned her head to the sky, seemingly admiring the view. "Maybe I have."

Her words were soft, almost cautious. Like she were talking to a newborn infant. It was a rather noticeable difference from her usual tone of speaking.

She continued to speak. "But still, that doesn't change the impact those words have on me."

Then, in the tiniest of whispers, I managed to hear her say, "Especially if it's coming from you."

We stood quietly, our shoulders barely a few inches from each other, staring into the night sky together. I was quick to notice how much taller I was. She was by no means short, especially compared to other girls, but the difference between us was clear.

I eventually got around to talking to her. "Say, Kawasaki."

Her gaze was quickly fixated on me once she noticed my soft use of her name. "Hm?"

"Do you feel safe?" Saying the sentence out loud nearly made me visibly cringe. It was a really weird thing to ask a girl at two in the evening, but I felt it needed to be asked. For her sake, at least.

Kawasaki didn't reply immediately. She looked to be mulling on the words carefully. I waited with bated breath, unknowing as to why I was so tense. I didn't think I was all that desperate for an answer, but stranger things before had happened.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned to me. "Well, obviously. You're here now with me, aren't you?"

We looked at each other for a short while, taking in her words slowly. Before I could even begin to process what she might have meant, however, she quickly made to backtrack. "I mean—!" She cleared her voice with a cough. "Obviously, you being here is better than being by myself. You might not be all that strong, but you look the part, at least."

I breathed a small sigh of relief. After how weird she had been sounding most of the day, it was nice to see a familiar side of her. "Be grateful I even decided to agree to this stupid thing. You owe me big."

My classmate huffed defiantly. "As if. It's your _job_ to do these kinds of tasks, isn't it? My safety should be your number one priority."

"Honestly, and hot shower and sleep is my number one priority right now."

"You wanna say that again?"

"Relax," I chided her. Even if she had been joking, the last thing I needed was to be on bad terms with the person I was supposed to be escorting. "As long as you're with me, I won't even think of anyone else. I'll keep you safe, promise."

"I..." Kawasaki started, before trailing off inaudibly. The cold weather looked to be getting to her, based on how red her cheeks were getting. She eventual did finish her sentence, in a surprising moment of humility. "... thank you."

In retrospect, what I had said was overly heroic and dramatic, but I felt accomplished regardless. It was nice to get some appreciation every now and again. It was decidedly better than getting ragged on constantly. "No problem."

The lines of tall buildings eventually drifted behind us, and we started to wind between the maze of suburban houses on our way to Kawasaki's home. I had a vague sense of where she lived, but not an exact address. I was content with letting her lead the way, trailing behind her as I had been doing for a majority of the night. We didn't look to be too far off now.

She spoke again, quietly this time. "Did you mean what you said?"

Caught slightly off-guard, I had to recall to what I said, with no avail. "About what?"

Her voice somehow became even quieter. It was a strain to even listen. "About... not thinking of anyone else?"

My lips pursed. That had been more for effect than anything else. Speaking in a literal sense, such a statement was impossible— being around her for as long as I had been during the evening, managing to think of only her during the entirety of that timeframe was a silly proposition. I'm sure she recognized that too.

Still, it was the sentiment that was expressed in that statement that mattered, more so than the literal meaning. I hadn't been lying about keeping her safe, and though I might have indicated otherwise, she was my number one priority. I would keep her safe, because it was my job. Nothing more, nothing less.

I nodded at her, a bit absentmindedly. "Yeah, I meant it."

I didn't receive any immediate response, though I did notice her fist clench and her breathing hitch. I was concerned, but not overly so— how she reacted to what I said was her business. It wasn't my place to intrude, and I left it at that.

After a lengthy silence, she spoke, when I had almost given up on expecting an answer. Her tone sounded normal, but there was something laced within her words that indicated more than she was letting on.

"That's... that's all I'm asking for."

We turned to another street, and I felt the growing suspicion that this wasn't going to be as mundane a request as I had been hoping for.

* * *

 _ **Well, this was refreshing to finish. Took awhile, but I like the result.**_

 _ **This will probably end up being a little mini-series of mine. I'm thinking around 3-4 chapters or so. Though, I'll probably make the chapters run long, just to keep the content fresh.**_

 _ **Again, it felt good to get this out. I adore this series, and I especially adore this pairing. Honestly, you can't go wrong with any of the main pairings in Oregairu, but this one just appeals to me the most. Personal preference, I guess.**_

 _ **If you could spare some generosity, I'd appreciate any Favs, Follows and Constructive Reviews! I always like getting feedback from readers. Serves as great motivation. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I'm able, so do stay tuned for more!**_

 _ **Thanks for reading! Have a great day!**_

 _ **~Slalem**_

 _ **EDIT 03/02/2019: A few changes to the dialogue and a slight restructuring to the ending of the chapter.**_


	2. II

**_Slowly but surely, Kawasaki Saki begins to believe_** _ **.**_

Friendship is an odd, fickle thing.

There exist multiple, if not endless ways to interpret what exactly defines a friendship. It could be a physical or emotional attraction to one you feel close to. It could be a mutual liking of a certain subject in which two people discover similar taste, and form a subsequent kinship. It could even be classified as something as simple as enjoying another's presence. It was almost a given that most everyone had a differing opinion on what made a friendship, well, a friendship.

Through this, however, problems arise. With so many conflicting opinions on what defines a "friend", it's bound to create direct misunderstandings within the various relationships one might hope to create. With so many unspoken boundaries and precautions, finding a comfortable in-between is incredibly challenging to one looking for companionship. It's a dilemma I've witnessed with my own eyes, and a problem that has plagued my foolhardy generation for years at this point.

An example. Say a shy, somewhat standoffish person were to be introduced to an outgoing, energetic extrovert. While the extrovert might aim to immediately attempt to make friends with the outcast and bombard them with friendly vibes and comforting feelings, the outcast would be quick to escape, in fear of letting someone come too close to their personal space. Through this, one can see that while the boundaries of the extrovert were almost nonexistent, the boundaries set by the outcast were near impermeable, thus preventing any sort of connection from forming between the two polar opposites. See what I mean?

With so many emotional landmines and traps to watch for, humans end up making friends with people who are exactly like them in nature, in order to avoid confusion and the possibility of a strained relationship. The problem with this, however, is that one's views never end up being challenged within this basic method. Their outlooks on life, politics and whatnot are all memorized by their carbon-copy friends, and spat right back in their faces, like some sort of faulty printer. They lose the ability to think for themselves, and become just another member of their cliques' collective mindset. Like a herd of sheep, grazing in the exact same spot.

To a loner, friendship is but an unnecessary fabrication imposed on us in order to create a false sense of security within an environment. Being surrounded by people you "like" puts one at ease, and temporarily helps one escape from reality and it's many real problems (which are innumerable, but I digress). Like love— yet another fabrication— friendship shields one from the truth, like a safety blanket in a maelstrom of hellfire.

However, one like myself is able to harness all aspects of modern society and implement them into my own mind, without the need for petty relationships. By simply observing rather than interacting, I've been able to avoid having to talk to people while keeping in the know-how. It takes a lot of stealth, and most of the information I hear is worthless garbage you hear on talk shows (thanks, Tobe), but it helps me keep in touch with reality while I face the truth head on, rather than hide from it. And the best part is, I don't have to go through the trouble of forging friendships I could never hope to attain.

Truly, friendship is one big irony that has fooled the masses of this planet. I, however, have managed to bypass such a restriction, and have managed to enter Heaven's Realm by my lonesome.

Though, one would think that with all of the beautiful women (though that term is subjective in itself) I just so happened to be surrounded by, that I myself am a hypocrite in spite of my own musings. That claim is far from the truth, however— Yukinoshita and Yuigahama are clubmates, Isshiki is a kouhai, Komachi is my sister, Haruno is a yandere, and Kawasaki is a coworker. Those things were _far_ from qualifying as friendship material. Not that I would know what would qualify to begin with.

Plus, they were _women_. Beings that naturally took advantage and made a mockery of the opposite sex. Totsuka was all I needed, anyway.

A stray leaf blew into my face, prompting me to release myself from my thoughts and eliciting a lazy wave of my hand to remove the fragile piece of nature implanted on my cheek. In the present time, I was seated on a bench near the high school, reclining comfortably under the waning hours of the day. Club had been another boring, request-less affair, and I used the opportunity to try to catch up on sleep. Yukinoshita hadn't been too happy with that, if my scalding tongue was any indication. It was easy to forget that she could be as sneaky and underhanded as her own sister at times.

Quietly, I took another sip from my MAX coffee, my third can of the day. The rush was absolutely terrible for me, and the comedown was even worse, but it was a necessity for work. Besides, Kawasaki was nice enough to lend me a can or two every night, so it wasn't like I could just stop drinking. The stuff was like a drug to me. Maybe I really did have an addiction problem.

After a lot of awkward planning and conversing, Kawasaki and I had agreed to meet up here every evening before heading off to work. She had insisted it was much safer this way, and while I agreed with her, I couldn't help but find her unyielding forcefulness in that decision a bit frightening. The way she would get me to do whatever she wanted me to do was unsettling, to say the very least. Then again, she'd been doing a lot of weird things as of late, so I supposed I had walked right into it. Like I mentioned previously, women were evil creatures _._

I sneezed rather suddenly. It was certainly getting colder during this time of year. Offhandedly, I briefly wondered what would happen if I were to get sick? Would Komachi take care of me, like the great little sister she was? Better yet, would Totsuka take care of me? I could see it now— his shy, petite hands shyly draping a warm towel over my perspiring forehead, before spoon-feeding me some soup he made, nervously fidgeting as he would hold the soup in his mouth before crashing his lips onto—

"Hikigaya? You there?"

I nearly jumped out of Japan as my admittedly lewd thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. Turning, I spotted Kawasaki eyeing me somewhat nervously, angling her lithe body to get a view of me.

"You doing alright?" She asked, concern in her tone.

Trying my best to play it natural, I stood immediately. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Feeling souper— uh, super. Yeah."

The girl before me continued to eye me with a look that made me feel anything but comfortable. After a brief stand off between my dead eyes and her own cerulean ones, she gave me a soft smile. "Well, if you're sure."

Odd. I was expecting her to punch me or something. Oh well, at least she didn't manage to discover my newest fetish concerning Totsuka. My social life would _really_ start to plummet if that were to get out.

We fell in step with each other, heading in the direction of the Royal Okura. I knew the route there by heart now, and Kawasaki was more than willing to let me lead the way. As we walked, we idly talked about trivial, meaningless things.

"So... how was school?"

I gave her a questioning look. Since when did she care about my wellbeing? "We're in the same class. You tell me."

Her eyes narrowed. I could tell by that look that I'd gotten her angry— she usually only gave me that look whenever I insulted her trash can of a brother.

"What's with the damn attitude?"

What was what for? Did she forget who I was? I was probably the last person anyone would think of starting a conversation with. Still, I would rather she not be mad at me before work started, so I made to backtrack.

"Nothing, sorry. I'm not feeling all that well."

Kawasaki, however, managed to see through my lie and called my bluff. "Not well enough that you can't even answer a simple question?"

She got me there. In response, I angled my head towards her in a bored but leisurely motion. "Yeah, you're right. Guess I just don't feel like talking today."

This, however, only served to make her angrier. "Well, excuse me for trying to be sociable, jackass."

I scoffed. "You're well aware that I'm not sociable. If you didn't already know that, you seriously need to rethink your opinion of me."

It was true. Most everyone in our class knew of the infamously lame Hikigaya Hachiman. It was like one of those school laws or codes that no one ever officially verified, but still adhered to anyway. My loner status was destiny, a product of God's very will.

Kawasaki rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know, trust me. I wouldn't ever _dream_ of changing how others see you. You're like trash in a landfill waiting to be incinerated."

Though I'd never admit it aloud, she did have a way with words whenever she insulted people. She wasn't entirely smart, but that was just when it came to academics. The art of the insult was a different matter of skill all together, one she seemed to have mastered.

However, she needed a reminder as to who she was talking to. "Trash, you say? I'll gladly accept such a role— if I were to be burned alive and granted the sweet release of death, that in itself would be a welcome blessing."

I'd let a bit of my middle-school self seep into my own dialogue, but I played it off. That reprehensible persona would follow me to the grave, it seemed.

Kawasaki recoiled after I finished speaking, apparently unimpressed with my retort. "Jeez, you're so gross. How do those girls in that club of yours put up with you?"

A good question. One I hardly knew the answer to myself. Perhaps I'm like a zoo animal to them— one they can spectate and gaze at, and in Yukinoshita's case, experiment on and mock constantly. "Don't know. Ask them yourself."

Kawasaki shook her head, her long ponytail bouncing with every movement. "Honestly, why are you so weird? It's like you're forcing yourself to be this angst-filled, loser of a person. Like some kind of warped nihilist."

"And so what if I am?" I questioned, quickly formulating a counter in response to her own assumption of me. "What's it to you if I purposefully ostracize myself? Don't you do the same?"

Much to my surprise, however, Kawasaki wasted no time in retorting. "I keep my distance from people because I _have_ to. Do you think I have time to juggle a social life on top of graveyard shifts while trying to earn a scholarship? I never had a choice in the matter. This life is something I have to live."

Kawasaki almost looked to be scorning me as she rambled on. "But you? You don't have to really do anything," She fired off point after point, not giving me any chance to interrupt. "You live your life alone by choice. You don't know what pressure feels like, and you've been blessed to have the opportunity to choose your own life."

She then frowned at me— or rather, _through_ me. "But you've thrown that opportunity away. And for what? For you to take the fall and accept the blame for everyone else's mistakes?"

My eyes narrowed. She was treading a dangerously personal path I think she didn't want to involved herself with.

"I've seen what you do. I know your methods," Kawasaki's eyes were locked on to me. "You think you're some kind of pariah? You think shouldering all that blame by yourself makes you a good person? Is that what self-satisfaction is to you?"

I didn't have time to wonder how she knew about any of this. I had to put an end to this— this talk with Kawasaki had gotten drastically out of hand. But, to my displeasure, she continued her tangent.

"Let me give you what we in the real world call a reality check. What you're doing isn't helping anyone. The second you intervene, trying to hold everyone's burden like you're some type of savior, you only make things worse. The problems you think you're solving, aren't ever really solved— only prolonged."

I finally managed to squeeze a few words in. "You don't know that."

"I _do_ know that," She replied with no hesitation. "I've seen it with my own eyes. Hell, it's happening right now."

I searched my mind for what that could have meant. There wasn't any request that I had fulfilled that had any means of resurfacing. What was she hinting at then?

"All you're doing is forcing this unnecessary suffering on to yourself, while the problems around you worsen. You're butchering every chance you have at happiness, and for what? A smidgen of recognition?"

"How could you possibly know?" My anger was rising. Where did she get off thinking that she knew what was right and what was wrong? She was a lot like Yukinoshita in that regard— righteous and unrealistic.

"I know, because I've done it myself." Kawasaki stood tall, but faltered for the first time that night. "I... I've taken up burden after burden, just trying to get by... my chance at happiness is already long gone."

That line got me. My mouth froze, giving her another chance to continue.

"So to see it happening to you... someone I care about..." Her voice trailed off. "... it hurts to see you suffer like that for people who don't give a damn about what you have to go through."

I had foregone attempting a reply at this point, choosing to silently mule her words instead. To hear that she cared for me, when her actions before her request indicated otherwise, was surprising. I hadn't even considered the possibility that she held an ounce of concern for me personally after completing her brother's request.

But she had gone and said it now. She cared about me in a way that extended beyond that of classmates. While the depth of her feelings were unknown to me (I imagined that they were, at most, that of close friends), I was curious as to why she had proclaimed such a thing in front of me.

Kawasaki managed to turn away from me, hiding her pained expression from my line of sight and effectively giving me no opportunity to pry any further. "Let's get going," she spoke somberly. "We don't want to be late."

I almost forgot that we had somewhere to be. Not wanting to make a fool out of myself any further, I wordlessly followed her, glancing in any direction but her own as we strolled to our destination, making sure to stay a few steps behind her. Things were already awkward enough as they were.

Something told me that today was going to be a rough day.

* * *

She ignored me for the rest of the walk to the Royal Okura. She didn't even stop to greet anyone as she walked through the door— something I found rather worrying.

Of course, what was more worrying was the almost palpable amounts of awkward tension between us. I'd been in a lot of troubling situations before, no doubt, but this one was shaping up to be one of the most cumbersome conflicts I'd been wrapped into. How was I supposed to solve this? I hadn't even fully recovered from what she'd said about me earlier.

 _"It hurts to see you suffer like that for people who don't give a damn about what you have to go through."_

Those words continued to stick with me, continuously resonating in my mind like some sort of holy enchantment. And though I was reluctant to think about such trivial things, I couldn't help but wonder— was what I was doing entirely effective?

I hadn't ever considered what others thought of me when I solved requests. That was who I was, after all. My personal feelings were disregarded when it came to my methods, because it _worked._ The results almost always turned out in my favor— and in turn, everyone else's favor. Because I knew what those people wanted even better than what they themselves knew they wanted.

But if my methods were, in fact, a worsening constant throughout the many scenarios I'd been forced into, what then? Though, this was just hypothetical thinking on my part— I was still rather sure that my way of doing things was what was best, despite what others told me. Old habits died hard, but lived even harder.

Of course, Kawasaki hadn't been the first to construct a negative view on the way I conducted my business. Yukinoshita and Yuigahama had called me out multiple times, the former much more adamantly and forcefully. Then again, Yukinoshita had a reason to despise how I worked— it was a direct contrast to the way she thought and operated. She and I were similar, but not when it came to how the Service Club handled its requests.

But Kawasaki didn't have a real reason. She hadn't even been physically present for when most of my solutions took place. In all likelihood, she probably just heard loose bits and pieces of stories concerning me from gossip amongst the students. In fact, most of the stories she heard from the student body probably consisted more of fabricated lies than actual truth, for the sake of dramatization.

Even so, what motivated her to care so deeply about my endeavors? They didn't affect her in any way, shape, or form, so _why?_ Someone as prideful and self-reliant as her shouldn't have even involved herself in the first place.

I sighed, leaning back into the chair I was seated on. I wasn't getting anywhere with this. If I kept it up, I'd probably be here all night just thinking of possibilities as to why Kawasaki acted like she did. I had to move on for now, I had a job to do.

Currently, I had trapped myself in the Angel Ladder's locker room, halfway clothed in my freshly ironed uniform. The room was practically empty at all times, much to my surprise— it turned out that Oshino and I were the only male workers in the establishment. Though, it made sense, from a business standpoint. Women were naturally more appealing, and could much more easily trick and coerce customers into buying more beverages. Such was the art of business.

Eventually, I got around to putting my pants on. A few short minutes later, I was adjusting my tie and checking to see if my hair looked alright in the full body mirror near the door. Even I had to admit that I looked snazzy, a far cry from my usual style of dress. In this form, I upgraded from a two to a solid two and a half, easy.

Exiting, I made my way down the hall and into the bar, a bit slower than usual. As I entered, Kawasaki was no where to be seen, much to my initial relief and later confusion. Normally, she was always ready before I was, never taking a chance to slack off on the job. Though, I could give an accurate guess as to why she was tardy.

However, in her place was Oshino, who was wiping a few shot glasses clean with a cleaning cloth near the spice shelves. He evidently had time to do so, since there weren't any customers that had entered yet. His eyes immediately found me, and a disgustingly large smile soon formed on his face.

"Oh, good evening, Hikigayaya-kun!"

I frowned. "You added an extra syllable to my name."

The man apologetically rubbed his head, grinning sheepishly. "Oops, I bit my tongue. Sorry!" Yes, my boss is a loser. How many times do I need to reiterate myself?

"Anyways, Hikigaya-kun," Oshino continued, correctly pronouncing my name. "I noticed that Kawasaki-chan was a little down when you two came in today."

So he _did_ notice. The man-child was more perceptive than I thought he was, apparently. "Really?"

"Yeah, she was acting even moodier than she usual does. Which, as you probably already know, doesn't bode well for any of us." He rested his arm against the bar stand, tilting his head as he spoke. "Would you happen to know what's wrong with her?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly. What game was he trying to play? It was as if he knew what had happened, but choose to act negligent in the hope of getting me to fess up. Was he always this aberrant?

Before I could come up with some sort of witty retort, however, a familiar face exited the female locker room. Kawasaki entered, donning her trademark uniform and hairstyle. It appeared that Oshino knew that he wouldn't be able to press on in his verbal assault, and in turn ceased to ask any further questions. Though, he did manage to give me a vague, parting word as he made to inspect the tables.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope you resolve this little qualm with her quickly," He whispered in my ear as he passed. "It'd be a shame if you made things more complicated than they already are."

And thus, the man shot a wink at me before scampering away, leaving me to stare at him in a dumbfounded manner as he left. Apparently, there was a lot I didn't know about the man named Oshino Yakaza. That in itself was highly unsettling, in spite of the ominous proverb he'd whispered to me.

At the moment, however, I had more pressing issues to attend to. Kawasaki was currently making sure that the drinks were stocked and full, going over each bottle thoroughly. She seemed to be doing her best to avoid conversation with me, since it was fairly evident that all the bottles were full— I'd restocked them myself earlier.

In that moment, I decided to make myself look busy. I walked around the bar room, tidying up random items and occasionally looking at a table Oshino had just cleaned. It was another of my one-hundred-and-eight loner skills I had managed to master in my time as an isolated loser— the art of making myself look busy, while casually sneaking glances at people.

From what I could gather, Kawasaki looked to be masking her displeasure with me fairly well. She managed to uphold that neutral look of hers she always wore. I'd openly commend her, were it not for the precarious situation we'd found ourselves in. She could rival Yukinoshita with her own ability to keep up appearances.

Eventually, though, I had to cease in my snooping, as people finally began to fill into the bar. Though the night shift wasn't nearly as bad as Happy Hour, we still received a fair amount of people. Thus, following our usual protocol, I stationed myself at the bar, while Oshino and Kawasaki made to serve the folks who'd chosen tables.

In all truthfulness, being a bartender wasn't exactly hard. Once you managed to find a steady rhythm and became comfortable with how you did your job, while figuring out how to mix all the types of drinks, it was relatively easy. In my brief time working here, I realized that people didn't want a drink that was sweet, sour, or unique— they wanted a drink that would help them forget about their crappy day, something that would give them a buzz.

That's where my use of spices came in. Spices could greatly enhance a drink far beyond its normal taste capabilities— or so Oshino had told me. A little extra bit of cinnamon here and there, a pinch of added lemon in this and that, and people would be dying for more. As long as you got the general flavor of the drink down, and added a few surprises here and there, you'd be set. Just like that.

Though, that didn't stop me from failing miserably my first couple of tries. Oshino had been gracious enough to taste-test all of my starter drinks, and had proceeded to promptly dump them in the sink. It was harsh, but I needed it. My mixing skills sucked initially.

Now, however, I was a mixing god. In only two short weeks, I had mastered the Martini, bested the Bourbon, and crushed the Cocktail. Yes, if my parents saw me forcing people into alcoholism in a bar I was much too underage to be working at, there's no doubt they'd be proud! College could eat my shorts!

Though, with my ability to quickly create a fine beverage (offhandedly, I wondered if I could implement that into my one-hundred-and-eight loner skills), that left me a decent amount of free time. What I did most of the time, normally while I was cleaning glasses, was watch the room and spectate the people in it. I'd already seen a fair amount of categories enter the Angel's Ladder— the drunk veteran, the lonely widow, the lusting woman, and the wide-eyed teenager entering for the first time. More often than not, these people came in groups, and almost always left with someone carrying someone else. It was depressing to see, but equally as amusing.

Through my careful observation, I realized that this particular action of mine reinforced my earlier claim concerning friendship. Through me silently watching others interact, I stayed engaged and active with society and reality without having to physically be with those drunken hooligans. Not that I ever doubted I was ever wrong about my hypothesis to begin with.

I had originally planned to further investigate my claim, and spectate more people who would enter the bar. Unfortunately, my attention would have to be directed to something else tonight.

Kawasaki moved with a certain grace when she waited on customers. She walked with a purpose, and every step seemed planned and efficient. She was loud and clear when she spoke to a customer, but still managed to keep a friendly disposition, occasionally throwing in a tiny smile for effect. She was like a siren from the legends of old, drawing in customers with her efficiency and beauty, and keeping them for as long as she deemed fit.

It was a little disheartening for me, honestly. She was such an excellent employee. Her tips were always bigger than mine, and not by a few meager cents.

But, in all fairness, she deserved it. She'd worked hard to make it this far, and had to put up with a lot of crap that I knew I certainly didn't have the patience and drive for. Hell, she had to, if she was willing to sacrifice part of her education just to work.

I unwillingly remembered what she told me earlier. _"You don't know what pressure feels like, and you've been blessed to have the opportunity to choose your own life."_

Deep down, she was right. I wasn't under any sort of pressure to perform in any way, shape or form. Compared to her, I was about the most liberated thing imaginable. To have to work not only for her own sake, but for her family's? It was something I had no right to place an opinion on.

Did I feel bad for her? I wasn't entirely sure. Pity was a new emotion to me, one I hadn't really invested in. Things like scorn and disgust were more up my alley.

But as I watched her pass me by, uttering not a single word, I couldn't help but stare. To be able to shoulder all of that burden, and still manage to come to school, learn, and even make a tiny bit of room in her heart for people, was something admirable, even for someone as despicable and disgusting as me.

Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I was doing something incorrectly. Kawasaki had no reason to care for my wellbeing, but still found it in her to look out for me when she could. A person like that wouldn't try to persuade me from my methods just for the fun of it, right?

My own musings were interrupted when a group of loud voices entered the room. From the tone of the voices alone, I could smell immediate trouble. Raijuus all had a certain air about them— one filled with abundant amounts of obnoxious, self-obsessed opinions of themselves. It was sickening, and through a certain blonde-haired nitwit, I'd become accustomed to their antics and presence.

A group of three walked in, and my suspicions were proven true. Three young men, all looking to be college-age douchebags, sauntered their way in, laughing up a storm about some dumb joke one of them had said. Their ringleader was particularly worrying— tall, lean, and well-dressed, sporting a full head of blonde hair in addition to sharp blue eyes, and with a jawline that could cut through steel.

Larry, Curly, and Moe quickly found a seat, waving over the nearest waiter in a true display of arrogance, cackling quietly all the while. I groaned inwardly. I knew this day would come, but I'd been hoping to prolong it for as long as possible. Eventually, I'd have to make drinks for a couple of young, prideful dude-bros, who would waltz in flaunting daddy's money in front of everyone, hoping to score a free drink or two with their looks while scooping a couple of easy women on the side. Tonight was just destined to suck for me.

Unfortunately, the nearest waiter made no hesitation in attending to the young men— Kawasaki strode over, seemingly unaware of the trap she was heading towards. I felt my heart sink, and I lost the ability to focus on what I was supposed to be doing. The person I was supposed to be serving— a middle-aged donning a rather long coat— noticed my apparent distraction. "Hey, you alright, kid?"

My attention was brought back to the man, and I cursed mentally for losing my cool. "Yeah, sorry." I hurriedly put the finishing touches on the Classic Manhattan he'd asked for, and slid it his way.

The man gave a look over to where I'd been staring, and gave me a knowing look. "Ah. Kids these days, right? So troublesome. Makes me glad I'm an adult."

I gave a half-hearted nod, anxiously stealing glances at the table Kawasaki stood at. Her face was still stuck in neutral, and she shot apathetic looks at each of three young men. I knew that Kawasaki was hardly the type to get flustered by the actions of others, but still...

Concentrating, I focused on their conversation from across the room. The arrogant pricks were rather loud, so it wasn't all that hard to pick up.

One of them, a slender, skinny one with short brown hair and an almost insidious smile was the first to try his hand. "Hey there, cutie."

Kawasaki simply skipped over his advance, retaining her impassive façade. "Good evening, and welcome to the Angel Ladder. What can I get for you gentlemen to start?"

Another lackey, a dark-skinned fellow with a rather crude looking buzz-cut, went next. "Dunno, whaddya got?" His question was innocent enough, but the smirk he was currently donning looked anything but trustworthy.

Nevertheless, Kawasaki ignored them and continued. "Well, tonight's special is the Golden Okura, a light Tequila Sunrise with specially made grenadine and a light pinch of—"

"Yeah, cool," The blonde one cut off, leaning back into his chair with a haughty grin. "Look, I'm sure you're a busy lady and all, so I'm gonna cut to the chase. There's something _else_ me and my boys want."

Almost marginally, so much so that I nearly missed it, Kawasaki's eyes narrowed. "Well, if there's something else you would like, you're free to choose from our wide variety of beverages shown in our menu, sir."

The leader's grin widened. Like a madman on the hunt for an innocent victim.

"Oh, a spunky one, huh? That's okay— I _love_ playing hard to get."

I watched tensely, almost refusing to move. I knew what was going to happen. It didn't take a genius to see that this wasn't going to end peacefully. But as I stood there, eyeing the situation like some helpless bystander, I found it impossible to engage Kawasaki. My legs were frozen, but for what reason? Was I scared? What in the hell was wrong with me?

The young men, despite their somewhat loud shenanigans, hadn't attracted anyone else's attention yet. This whole entire scene felt planned— like the three men had done this sort of thing before. And based on their sickening grins, whatever they planned on doing had probably worked more than just a few times. For now, I was the only one able to see what was happening. Where the hell was Oshino?

"How long you been working here?" The blonde asked, eyeing Kawasaki with a feigned look of curiosity. "Couple weeks? Couple months? You certainly don't look like any kind of greenhorn."

"I'm afraid I can't answer that question," Kawasaki shot back immediately. "Would you like anything to drink?"

Sighing somewhat melodramatically, the man leaned back into his chair. "Still playing dumb, huh? I get it, it's cool— besides, we have _plenty_ of time to work out our differences."

Surely, Kawasaki was seeing what they were trying to do. Why the hell wasn't she trying to get out of there? Was her job really more important than her own wellbeing?

Slowly, the blonde placed a long finger on his chin. "Hm... if only there was a way to make you more cooperative." Almost comically, his eyes shot up in rehearsed surprise. "Oh! I know!"

The blonde reached for his pants pocket, digging around until he found what he was looking for, his eyes trained on Kawasaki all the while, eyeing her like a prize at a carnival game.

"Silly me! How could I have possibly forgotten! How's... this?"

In a single, swift motion, the blonde revealed what he'd been hiding— a rather large sum of money, held together by a loose rubber band. Just by pure observation alone, I could tell that the amount of money in his hand was easily enough to dwarf about half a year's worth of work here. The stack barely fit in the palm of his hand, not that he was too concerned.

I noticed Kawasaki's eyes widen, and felt my worry levels shoot through the roof. I'd been expecting something like this, but not to this extent. That was a _lot_ of money in the man's hand. So much so that even Kawasaki was apparently intrigued.

But that wasn't the point. They had her attention now. Hell, I would have probably been tempted by such an effective use of bribery. The situation had turned from bad to worse in the blink of an eye.

"Do you really enjoy working here?" The man drawled on, casually waving the wad of cash in his hand back in forth, like some sort of chew toy. "It must suck, having to work here for hours upon hours at night, only to be rewarded with such terrible pay. Wouldn't you agree?"

This time, Kawasaki remained silent. I couldn't get a good enough angle to see her face.

"You look young. Like a high school student." The skinny one reentered the conversation. "You're probably thinking about college, yeah? Though, if you're working here at this hour, I'd guess that you're in a crunch for... let's say, sufficient funds."

"It's a shame, really," The blonde plastered a sickening look of dramatic sadness on his face, to which his buddies chuckled at. "I've turned over a new leaf recently, and found no such need for things like money or luxury. Though, I have all of this money already... I simply don't know what to do with it!"

His eyes sharpened as he returned his gaze to Kawasaki. "So, I've decided to be charitable. Give to the needy, you know? The less fortunate are always thankful, no matter what I give them!"

My brain was shorting out. This was real. This was actually happening. An acquaintance... no, a _friend_ was being assaulted. But I wasn't doing anything. I was watching from afar, like I'd been doing for all of my pathetic life.

I had always prided myself on knowing how and when to act. But when the chips were down, I vanished. Like I always had, and always would.

"Though, I am a selfish man, unfortunately," The melodrama returned to the blonde's voice. "I cannot give away my money so freely. I'm simply too attached!"

His dark-skinned friend picked up where he left off. "So, we've settled for a compromise. In exchange for our generous donations, we only request certain... favors."

For the first time that night, I heard Kawasaki speak with uncertainty in her voice. "... what kind of favors?"

The blonde's eyes widened maniacally. "Oh, I'm so glad you asked! See, isn't cooperation _fun?"_

"It's nothing much, honestly." The skinny one shrugged, acting helpless. "All we want is to have some fun, you see. Hit the town, catch a movie, and have a good time, you dig?"

"He's right!" The blonde took over from there. "A good time is all we ask for!"

"But see, what I enjoy the most about having fun are the sleepovers." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just love bonding with people I've never met before. It's a great way to make friends, you know? And you..." His eyes traveled down Kawasaki's body with a hungry gaze. "... would be a _fine_ addition to our group of friends."

So their intentions were finally known. Not that I hadn't seen it coming, though. Frankly, I was much more worried about Kawasaki than anything else at this rate. I was pretty sure I was sweating profusely, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

Kawasaki had barely spoken. In all honesty, she seemed rattled. I'd lost a visual of her face, and that worried me even more. Was she tempted? Would she accept the offer that he knew would eventually come? The very thought of it made me want to throw up.

I finally made to move, but a cough nearby garnered my attention. As I turned to the source, I realized that it came from the man I had served earlier, though he wasn't looking at me. He kept his eyes forward, his steely gaze not moving even an inch. I was confused, most certainly. Had that been intentional?

The sound of a voice picking up again drew my attention once more. It belonged to the blonde. "So, how about it? Wanna have some fun with us?"

Kawasaki didn't respond at first. Slowly, I felt myself becoming more and more enraptured in my own despair. Despite all the false bravado I'd displayed earlier, and despite how uncaring I made myself out to be, in the end, I wasn't able to accomplish anything. Not because I chose not to, but because I couldn't, even if I tried.

I was too weak to proclaim my own true opinion. I was too afraid to go against other people, and fight for what I believed in. My teeth were clenched, and I felt all the confidence from before quickly draining out of me. Like I was some pathetic, worthless balloon.

At the end of the day, I was ultimately a coward. And nothing I did would change that fact.

I saw Kawasaki slowly and tentatively reach out to the blonde asshole's hand, which held the ridiculous amount of cash. The shit-eating grin he donned prompted me to turn away and close my eyes. I couldn't bear to watch this.

And yet, as I wallowed in my own grief, a sudden sound compelled me to begrudgingly open my eyes— the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Slowly, my eyes turned towards the commotion. The young blonde man had his head turned at an odd angle, as if he were looking down at something. Upon further inspection, however, I saw a different story. His left cheek was colored a nasty shade of red, and he looked visibly shocked. What had happened?

Kawasaki was standing tall, her hand raised high and upwards for all to see. The sound had drawn the attention of the entire room, but I wasn't paying attention to that aspect of the situation. Rather, I was staring at her now visible face, and the expression it was currently wearing— one of unadulterated rage and disgust.

She... slapped him?

"Let's get one thing straight," Kawasaki spoke, not bothering to hide the immense amounts of anger in her tone. "You're being a damn nuisance. You have no right to be making demands in _my_ workplace during _my_ shift."

The blonde man stuttered, completely dumbfounded. "W-Wha... what the—"

"Don't you dare open your fucking mouth. If you so much as cough, I'll beat your face in."

Needless to say, the room was stunned. To see this high school girl verbally beating up on this group of college-age boys was like something out a movie. Hell, I was shocked out of my pants myself. Though, it was more of an stunned admiration more so than a condemning one.

She leaned in close to the group of young men, primarily to their leader, eyes blazing as she spoke each word with a fury straight from the soul. "Listen closely, jackass. If you think that waving around a wad of cash in my face is enough to make me get on my knees and beg, you've got another thing coming. I would _never_ whore myself for _anyone,_ much less to the likes of you. Nothing you offered me in this world or the next would prompt me to even look at that measly thing you call a penis."

Like I said previously, she had a way with words.

"Fun? With you idiots? If you wanted me to kick your asses for money so badly, you should have just asked!" The tiniest of smirks then began to spread across the former delinquent girl's face. "Hell, I'd do it for free if you asked nicely."

I was reminded that this was only a snippet of what she used to be when she was younger. If I weren't so shocked at the moment, I would have been tempted to silently thank the lord above that I never crossed paths with her in middle school.

"I don't know what possessed you to think that I was just another easy women willing to spread her legs for anything with cash and a torso, but you're sorely mistaken." She let pride swell into her voice, not even trying to hold back at this point. "I'm strong. _Real_ strong. Stronger than the three of you maggots put together, and then some. I've earned my keep in the world, and there's nothing any of you limp-dicks can do to take that away from me. Throw all the money you want at me— I'm set for life with what I've got."

For the first time in what felt like forever, I fully began to acknowledge the mental and physical strength of Kawasaki Saki. To be able to stare danger and possible temptation right in the face and spit in it was something I'd never dreamed of seeing, much less doing.

In a way, I was a bit jealous, though I'd never admit that aloud. She was everything I quietly wished I could be. Strong, determined, and able to stand by her beliefs and attain what she wanted. In that sense, her strength was unmatched by anyone I knew.

"I'm fighting the temptation to beat you senseless, so pay close attention," Kawasaki, as it appeared, made to finish off her opponents. "Take that wad of cash in your hand, shove it up your ass, and crawl back to daddy or whatever hole you came out from and _never come back."_ For emphasis, she cracked her knuckles in a rather menacing display. "If I so much as see you on the streets, I won't hesitate to beat your head into the nearest wall. Understand?"

After she finished her (admittedly refreshing) rant, no one said anything for what felt like an eternity. I guess even rich folks knew when to shut up. Though, even I knew this momentary lapse of drama wouldn't last forever.

As if on cue, the dark-skinned guy immediately stood up from his seat, about as angry as I had assumed he would be. "Y-You... you fucking bitch!"

Kawasaki, despite the pressure in the room, allowed a dry, humorless laugh to escape her lips. "Aww, did I hurt your pwecious widdle ego? Don't worry, I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there looking far and wide for a good four inches."

The blonde, still reeling a bit from his fresh verbal scars, made to his feet next. "Shut up, slut! I'll make sure you never open that fucking smartass mouth of yours ever again! Do you know who I am?! I'll fucking ruin your—!"

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" A cool, collected voice made its presence known. Much to my surprise, I saw a familiar face I'd expected to see long before the situation spiraled into chaos— Oshino was standing right behind the three men, not looking to be fazed in the slightest. His usual smile was gone, however, replaced with a rather disapproving frown. "Goodness, I take one little smoke break and the entire restaurant goes straight to the crucifix. I just can't catch a break these days!"

The skinny brunette, in a fit of barely contained rage, seethed as he glared in Oshino's direction. "Who the hell are you?"

Oshino received the question as if he'd been asked to a picnic brunch. "Who am I? Oh, no one special, truly." His face continued to juxtapose his tone, as he chose to keep the frown while he spoke with his normal, cheery tone. "I'm just the manager of this fine bar, that's all."

"So you're the manager of this shithole, eh?" The blonde man spoke dangerously. In my eyes, he looked to have long lost his cocky, surefire façade from earlier, as well as all forms of common sense. He simply looked desperate now, like a wild animal on its last legs.

Though, I couldn't say I felt bad for him. Hell, he deserved a good beating or two in addition to jail time, in my humble opinion. But hey, who am I to play the politician?

"That'd be correct." Oshino replied the blonde's threatening question, not batting an eye.

"So you're the shitbag who hired this whore, right?" The blonde switched his gaze from Oshino to Kawasaki, and back again. "If you hadn't hired the bitch, I probably wouldn't have been in this situation! She must have given you a pretty good fuck if she got a stick-in-the-ass like you to hire her!"

I was really starting to get tired of this guy. Not only was everything he said totally and outrageously false (he even managed to screw up Oshino's personality— that man was the farthest thing from a stick-in-the-ass), but the sexual insults were just plain crude and unnecessary. Hearing him call Kawasaki multiple derogatory terms was making my blood absolutely boil, especially when she did nothing to deserve such tacky labels.

Good god, I'd been standing here for long enough. It was finally time to get off of my ass and do something about this whole dilemma.

"Hey, dumbass." I called over, my throat a bit dodgy from misuse. The blonde, his gang, and Kawasaki all turned to me at the same time, along with the rest of the room. It seemed the floor was mine.

"And just who the fuck are _you?"_

"Oh, no one special, truly." I spoke, copying Oshino's line from earlier. I knew he wouldn't ever let me live that one down, but now was hardly the appropriate time to think of that. "I'm just here to tell you that calling people whores and sluts isn't really a nice way to make friends."

"You..!"

"Also, stop trying to compensate. I know some of us aren't as fortunate as others when it comes to certain... bodily advantages, but throwing money in people's faces is hardly an effective coping mechanism."

The blonde looked ready to tear my head off, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared. Even so, I'd also be lying if I said I didn't enjoy this moment of power. Yes, this was one of the rare times I was actually proud of myself. Tonight hadn't been such a bust after all.

"Are you mocking me, you damn clown?!" The blonde shrieked. Seriously, how did he still have the energy to keep yelling?

Though, his anger simply made my next line that much more satisfying. "Of course not. All I want to do is have a good time, _you dig?"_

He wasn't a very big fan of that.

It all happened so quickly. In the blink of an eye, the blonde sprinted right at me, hurdling over tables with an intent to kill, suddenly revealing a pocketknife previously concealed within his jacket. I could practically feel the hostility oozing from his body, and I knew that even if I somehow managed to establish some sort of defense, I'd probably end up with more than a few broken bones and gashes.

As such, I threw my arms in front of me in a defensive stance, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping for the best. In the back of my head, I managed to register Kawasaki screaming desperately in an attempt to get out of the way. Not that I had much of a choice.

Then, for the second time that night, I was surprised when the unexpected happened right before my eyes.

Slowly opening my eyes, as to make sure I wasn't already dead, I was confused when I saw the blonde man pinned forcefully against the ground, struggling with all his might yet unable to squirm more than a few inches. On top of him was a figure that I could have sworn had faded from my sight for the past fifteen minutes, and had only just reappeared.

The man in the long coat I had served before held the boy down with a strong grip, quickly removing the knife from his grasp. Thankfully, the blonde's buddies were much too shocked by what had just happened to do much of anything, rendering them completely useless as their faces were glued on to their idiotic friend's prone body.

I made no effort to move, and simply chose to let the man do what he had apparently been waiting to do. I watched silently as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and strapped them on to the blonde's wrists, sighing with a tired grunt as he did so.

"Man, all I wanted to do was get wasted and go home. Honestly, the nerve of some of you young people is baffling."

He apparently noticed my cautious staring, and immediately reverted back into his more relaxed posture. "Oh, sorry kid. I should probably explain before you start getting scared."

Fumbling around in his pocket, he eventually grabbed what looked to be a badge, with his face imprinted via photo on an extended section. "Isshiki Saito, Chiba Police Department. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hikigaya Hachiman."

I felt a strange but oddly familiar jolt run through my body at the sound of my name coming from his mouth. "How do you know my—?"

"It's nothing of great concern, I assure you." The man chided with a nonchalant wave of the hand. "My daughter does enjoy talking about you, though."

His daughter? Wait... that name... _Isshiki Saito...?_

I eventually connected the dots, and I felt my brain almost explode from the realization. There were a ton of questions I wanted to ask, like how the hell Iroha, and in turn her father, knew I was working here, but all I could manage to form with my mouth were the basic statements. "You're Isshiki's dad?!"

"Details, details." The man, Mr. Saito, didn't really seem to care that much at the current moment. "Go on, take a break. I texted headquarters the situation earlier, so they should be here any moment now. You just go and relax, kid."

I was still a tad shocked, honestly. A friend of mine's father, who was apparently a cop, just so happened to be seated by me while I was being attacked by random college boys, and managed to save me from what looked to be certain death. It was too much of a coincidence for it to just be coined to luck. Perhaps the rom-com gods had finally taken pity on me and found it within themselves to spare me a single, meager blessing.

It was all such a hassle, though. The non-existent bastards apparently hadn't even considered the possibility that I perhaps _wanted_ to die. Inconsiderate jerks.

I managed to take a quick gander around the room as my previous tension left me. People were beginning to file out of the bar, not wanting to involve themselves in matters requiring the authorities. For once in my life, I related to those drunken fools. This night had been eventful, and by no means in a good way. In the back of my mind, I was tempted to sneak out with them.

Even if I had wanted to stay, however, Oshino wasn't having any of it. "Hikigaya-kun," The man called over to me, a bit frantically. "I want you to take Kawasaki-chan with you to the back room. Don't come out until I say so, alright?"

I wondered what had managed to get the man so worked up. He'd been doing fine just before. Maybe the cops scared him?

Seemingly reading my mind, Oshino made to elaborate. "It's nothing too serious. I just want you two to be out of the way when the authorities arrive."

I quirked an eyebrow at his response. "That seems rather shady."

"Just take her and go, please. I'm not in the mood right now."

Deciding to heed his word rather than displease him further, I made my way over to the back hallway, looking through the area in an attempt to find Kawasaki. To my surprise, she was waiting for me at the beginning of the hallway, eyes down and donning a permanent scowl. Yeah, she was still in a bad mood.

Wordlessly, I followed her into the comfort of the smoking room, making sure to keep my eyes away from her right hand.

* * *

Needless to say, sitting quietly in the most run-down and spacious room in the entire bar was awkward for the both us. My eyes refused to leave the ground, and I could feel tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on the top of my forehead. Oh, what I'd do to be in bed right about now.

After safely analyzing all aspects of the night's events, I could confidently conclude that tonight was close to being one of the worst nights I'd ever had to have gone through. I'd been verbally abused by a coworker, then been forced to watch said coworker almost be forced into what looked to be a prostitution ring, and had a quick brush with death not more than fifteen minutes ago.

I just wanted to go home. I was confused, sweaty, and above all else, tired. Even now, I was fighting the urge to shut my eyes and fall asleep on the tacky pink loveseat I had found myself sitting on.

I briefly wondered what was going through Kawasaki's head at the moment. I mean, it wasn't everyday that you got sexually assaulted by a group of rich college students. I wondered if she was as badly shaken up by the entire ordeal as I was?

Slowly, I angled my head upwards to get a good look at Kawasaki. She was seated on an old wooden chair across from me, legs folded in a proper manner. Her arms were crossed defiantly, and she looked to be heavily interested in the wall beside her. Her face was expressionless, but still rather unwelcoming.

She looked as tired as I did. Guilt began to wash over me as my eyes lingered on her form. Here I was, complaining about how tired I was, when the girl across from me had gone through the entire thing firsthand. I hardly ever felt genuinely sorry for someone else, but seeing Kawasaki sit with such a tired expression made me rethink bypassing this whole thing quietly.

Before I could even open my mouth, Kawasaki beat me to the punch.

"Tonight sucked."

For once, a reply came easy.

"I agree." I responded, rubbing my eyes. Seriously, I needed a blanket.

I thought the conversation would die there, but Kawasaki continued. "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that." I shot her a gaze, trying my best to look worried. Such a feat was hard to accomplish this late at night, however.

Her eyes met mine, a whirlpool of emotions I couldn't decipher. "Oh, so _now_ you want to care for others?"

So she was still mad. Yeah, I probably should have seen that coming.

Kawasaki released a long sigh of resignation. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just been a long day, and I'm still kinda pissed."

I honestly didn't know what to say, so I settled for a cautious answer. "It's fine."

"I mean, seriously. I'm just trying to earn a paycheck here," Kawasaki began to start another tangent, tapping her foot angrily on the ground as she spoke. "And as it turns out, I can't even do that without attracting trouble. Like, of all the women who work in bars across Chiba, why am _I_ the one targeted by spineless horndogs with nothing better to do?"

Sitting and watching Kawasaki verbalize her anger was oddly refreshing for me. Seeing her release all of that pent up frustration she'd been forced to hold in for the sake of her job was, in all likelihood, the healthiest thing to do in times like these. Plus, it was surprisingly soothing for me to hear. Like white noise playing in the background during one of the many naps I'd taken in my lifetime.

"I just don't understand," She continued, rubbing her temples in exasperation. "It's not like I'm super pretty or anything."

"Nonsense, you're gorgeous," I realized the possible implications of what I'd just said aloud all too late. In hindsight, I didn't know what had washed over me. My mouth just moved on its own accord, like it had a mind of its own. Funny how that worked.

Kawasaki suddenly became very quiet. In all honesty, I was expecting to receive a lashing similar to the one I'd received earlier today after my careless comment. I was sure Kawasaki was fed up with being hit on by guys today, and for someone as gross as me to follow up to what had happened earlier was practically asking for a beating.

When I wasn't introduced to her fist, though, I carefully looked up. She was gazing at me in a rather confused look, as if she was making sure I was real. As we stared at each other, my eyes began roaming the mostly unnoticeable parts of her figure— she'd let her hair down, her long ponytail falling over her shoulder, and had rolled up her sleeves, revealing the spotless, porcelain skin of her arm.

I'd been taking more notice of Kawasaki recently. Well, then again, I hardly knew her name not that long ago, so I guess any type of attention would have been sufficient enough to qualify as more. It wasn't just the emotional characteristic of her, either. While I normally disregarded the superficial aspects of a person, I'd found that I'd become more aware of Kawasaki's more... physical attributes.

What? I'm a healthy, teenage boy. Even someone as anti-society as me can't help but notice a pretty girl's figure. I mean, it's not like I actually _like_ Kawasaki, right?

Said girl across from me finally managed to escape from her dazed stupor, and leaned back into her chair muttering under her breath. "Oh... thanks."

Wait.

That was it? Seriously?

Where was the anger from before? The defiance to be labeled as anything by a male? The quiet, tired mess in front of me was like nothing from what I saw in the bar! Was it too hard for her to be like a normal girl and _not_ do anything I wouldn't expect her to do? She was making this whole thing so much more awkward for me than it had to be!

Why was it like this? Rationality, reason, logic— it was all thrown out the window when I was with her. Why?

I sighed. I just had to let it go. I was overthinking this whole thing.

"You're welcome." I replied as casually as I could. It'd be best to just act as if nothing had happened.

But, there was something I wanted to ask her. Something that had been plaguing my mind ever since we'd entered the room.

"Hey, Kawasaki."

"...Yeah?"

I gulped. This was a lot more nerve-racking than what I'd anticipated. "Back there, in the bar. Were you seriously considering... you know..."

Almost immediately, Kawasaki replied in a spell of fury. "Considering to actually go with those freaks? Is that even a question?"

Scratching the back of my head, I continued. "Yeah, I know, it's stupid. But that was a lot of money. More than enough for your education, I'm sure."

Kawasaki made a low humming noise in her throat, a sign of annoyance. "Sure, it was a lot of money. But I have self-respect, and people to take care of. I can't afford to be whoring myself to people when I have my siblings to feed and watch over. I meant what I said in there."

On a somewhat lighter note, she pressed on. "Besides, I want to be someone Keika and Taishi can look up to and be proud of. Not some low-level women scraping for money from the inside of a man's pocket."

I should have expected as much from her. I'd forgotten that the pride of Kawasaki Saki was almost immeasurable. Someone like her would have never accepted such a proposition, and I was a fool for thinking otherwise.

Adjusting her posture, Kawasaki looked at me with curious eyes. "Why'd you ask? Were you worried at all?"

Duh, of course I was worried. Why would I ask if I wasn't worried about you?

"Yeah, I guess you could say that..." I answered, rubbing the back of my neck. Was it hot in here, or was it just me?

Uncharacteristically, I saw Kawasaki actually smile softly at my response. Despite the current setting and my own fatigue, I found myself looking away in embarrassment. I still wasn't accustomed to being surrounded by pretty girls all the time.

"Hachiman," She called out to me, and I felt a tangible shift in the room's mood. "Thanks for sticking up for me. Seriously."

"Stop, I didn't do anything." She shouldn't have been complimenting me. I'd been chastising myself for a good portion of the fiasco, so I was under no eligibility for praise. "You solved that entire thing yourself."

"But you still stuck up for me." She retorted, albeit in as kind a manner possible. "You put yourself in danger for my sake. I appreciate that a lot, really."

Why was she trying to hard to make me sound cool? Let me be a loser, damnit!

"I guess I was wrong about you," She continued, a bit of a laugh making it into her voice. "You do know how to solve problems without making yourself everyone's personal doormat."

I shot her a glare, but that only served to make her giggle even more. This girl was seriously testing my ability to restrain myself. She was about as deviant as Yukinoshita, in some ways.

Still, watching her quietly laughing to herself was conflicting for me. Everything I'd been criticizing and defying about society and people in general was beginning to look faulty. I found that I was actually able to tolerate Kawasaki's presence, and that I maybe, kind of, sort of... liked hanging out with her.

It was odd. No one made me question my own ideologies before, ever. Even now, I still had a hard time comprehending the idea that the claims I had made, backed by firsthand account and abundant amounts of evidence, had the chance of being incorrect. Society was a bottomless pit of despair and fake relationships, and I'd acknowledged this truth for years now.

But the introduction of Kawasaki into my daily routine was changing things. Now, I had a job, a social life, and what I guess I could call work acquaintances (I'm still hesitant to call Oshino any type of "friend"). Before any of this, I would have detested the idea of even stepping foot outside past sundown. I was aware of my own change, but I didn't know whether or not this change I was experiencing contradicted everything I stood for in my life.

All this questioning and thinking was making my head hurt. It was way too late to be pondering whether or not I was slowly becoming a normal member of society, as disgusting as it sounded. For now, I was just focused on the present. Which apparently involved me humoring this silver-haired enigma, who was still snickering at me from across the room.

Though, watching her enjoy herself was comforting, as much as I wasn't willing to admit it. Perhaps, in the grander scheme of things, changing wasn't the absolute worst thing to ever happen to me. Maybe I could just call it "adapting to my surroundings". Yeah, that sounded better. I was still as much as a loser I always was, and I would continue to be for the rest of time.

In regards to what I stated earlier, I still believe it to be true. Friendship and camaraderie is, generally, still a farce created by hypocrites, for hypocrites. Misunderstandings will still occur between polar opposites, and people will still get hurt. It is the way of life as we know it, and one of the few irrevocable truths of the world, which cannot be changed.

Yes, friendship truly is a fragile, fickle and useless thing.

But as I stared at Kawasaki Saki, I thought that maybe it wouldn't hurt to try it out.

* * *

 ** _And that's that. Good grief, this took forever._**

 ** _Fun fact, this is the longest chapter I've ever typed up. 11k+ words is a lot of reading, so I do hope that you don't mind the length. If you do, then hey, at least you made it to the end._**

 ** _This chapter was a little different from the general theme of the story, I know. I promise this will be as angst-filled and dramatic as this story will get. Next chapter will be much more lighthearted, so stay tuned._**

 ** _On another note, I do hope you enjoy the little references I throw in here and there. Though most authors tend to point them out, I'd rather you find them for yourself. It's much more fulfilling that way._**

 ** _Again, thanks for reading! I appreciate all the feedback you've given me so far. Your reviews have served as great motivation for me, so keep them coming!_**

 ** _Well, that's it for now. Hope y'all will stick around for the next chapter. Have a great day!_**

 ** _~Slalem_**

 ** _EDIT 04/29/2019_** — _**Minor changes to dialogue and text.**_


	3. III

_**Still, the springtime of their youth continues to blossom.**_

There is no greater thing I detest more in life than parties.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "B-but Hachiman, you've never been to a party, how can you possibly make such a claim?" That, foolish reader, would be false. I've been to plenty of parties during my lifetime. Of course, with this being about myself, the number of parties I've attended is still in single-digit territory, but even so, that's plenty enough to make an accurate generalization on the matter.

I'm a quiet person, as I'm sure you've noticed. A fly on the wall, a living ghost. The physical incarnation of a wallflower, so to speak. This is especially true for whenever I enter a public setting, and double that whenever I'm at a party. I've been pulled over and interrogated more than a few times during my party-going escapades, asked if I was even invited in the first place. Yes, I stick out _that_ much.

So, what do I do at parties? Why, I do what I always do, regardless of setting— I observe. (If you were even thinking of saying "socialize" as a response, I must kindly ask you to exit my personal monologue.)

Through my various firsthand studies at these multiple social gatherings, I've learned many things about the numerous aspects of parties. Parties and their success are wildly dependent on two factors— the type of party you want to have, and the people you invite over. For example, you can't invite people expecting a simple social get-together over to an all-night rave party. That certain demographic contrasts directly with the tone of the party you're trying to set, thus creating an unsuccessful, and ultimately lame, party.

On the flipside, however, inviting all the dude-bros and materialistic popular girls in town to the rave party would be a surefire way to make sure your party remains, well, a party. By inviting a much more outgoing and carefree group of people, you get to have the type of party you want with the people you know will enjoy it. The invitees should enhance the party, rather than bring it down.

Of course, there isn't nearly as much thought used in selecting people to invite to a party as I might have implied there to be. Typically, people will just invite their closest friends and/or their relatives over, depending on the type of party, regardless of their personalities and preferred type of gathering. It makes for an interesting combination of people, most certainly.

Most of the parties I ended up attending were not planned like they were above, and were more or less planned in a "screw it let's just invite everyone willing to come" type of format. What, did you think I'd have actually been _physically extended_ an invitation? How frivolous.

Back to what I was trying to say. I've more or less always found myself on the wrong side of the party spectrum— I usually got invited to the rave parties, rather than the mellow get-togethers. Looking back, I have no idea who thought inviting someone like me to a party like that was a good idea, or why I even resigned to going in the first place. I was much more naïve back then, and had a lot more faith in the world, and people in general. In truth, though, I only really attended parties out of obligation, instead of actually looking to have a good time.

As you might have expected, I was a bad fit at these gatherings. They were all so wild, intense, and above all else, _hot_. By the time I would leave (which would normally be about fifteen minutes after arriving), I'd always be covered in sweat, with more than a few yen missing from my wallet.

These parties were basically what you'd expect them to be— glorified orgy-fests. The endgame of every male at a party was to eventually hook up with a seven-out-of-ten (at the very minimum), and find somewhere to perform sexual activities with said girl. It was a disgusting and equally disturbing showing of witless lust and lack of self-control. I felt like hurling every time I would see some random, shamelessly intoxicated girl start grinding against some unsuspecting yet willing male. It made me sick. _Physically and mentally sick._

Such a lost and desperate attempt to find love was incredibly pathetic. As if you'd find the woman of your dreams rubbing her backside against every guy at the function. No, these foolish, idealistic idiots only came to wild parties to fulfill their never-ending feelings of misguided sexual frustration towards the opposite sex, regardless of gender.

Though, not every party was a complete and total bust. I always did enjoy Komachi's birthdays, especially when she was younger. These days, she'd have a public party with her friends at some mall or restaurant, but would still make time to have a private little party with myself and my parents. Of course, they were more like small little gatherings in the living room and were a stretch to really call a "party", but it was the thought that counted. My little sister couldn't possibly be this cute!

Unfortunately, not every party can compare to my little sister's. The general consensus of parties serve as yet another measly attempt to escape from reality— a reason quite similar to the motivations people have for going to bars. And, as it turns out, I happen to know plenty about both areas in question. Yeah, I was feeling pretty confident in my assumption this go around. Not even Kawasaki could manage to make me question these findings. Hell, I'm sure she'd be obliged to agree with me.

Parties are nothing more than mindless, pointless gatherings of hormonal teenagers (and occasionally adults) looking for a quick way to ease their stress from the day, and a quick way to pick up a sexual partner or two in the process. They served to brainwash the masses into thinking that every day was one you owed to being happy, and that letting go of all of your responsibilities was the best way to find enjoyment and fulfillment with your own way of life. Parties, in reality, are just hellish, elaborate illusions created to help one distract themselves from the day-to-day horror one endlessly dealt with by existing. Because of this wildly successful lie, parties will likely become a social norm for years, no, _centuries_ to come, and will eventually lead to the downfall of humanity and the mass extinction of our species by dumbing us down to the point where we adopt the thinking capabilities similar to that of phytoplankton.

Yeah, no way I'm wrong.

As I sat in class and sadly reminisced over my party-going attempts and subsequent failures, Hiratsuka-sensei slammed open the sliding door (somehow— how do you even do that?), and strode to the front of the class, visibly pleased with something. Hmm, I wonder. Did she finally manage to get a boyfriend? That somehow relieves and worries me at the same time.

"Good morning, class!" She spoke aloud, not bothering to conceal the wide grin on her face as she spoke. A few of the other students managed to pick up on her rather sudden bout of enthusiasm, and shot each other somewhat worried glances.

Hiratsuka-sensei quickly retrieved a piece of chalk, before writing big, bolded words on the chalkboard behind her. As soon as I saw the words she'd inscribed, I immediately felt like throwing up.

"As I'm sure you're all aware," Hiratsuka-sensei boomed. "Tomorrow marks the beginning of preparations for the Cultural Festival! An exciting opportunity to showcase our proud heritage and lineage to the entire school, via entertainment and service!"

Oh look, the idea of throwing a class party appearing right after I discuss my absolute hatred for parties. How terribly convenient. It almost sounds like something straight out of a terribly written and poorly structured fanfiction.

I mean, seriously. Exciting? Exciting, my ass. There was nothing fun about having to spend days on end renovating the class into some cheap restaurant, theater, or any other type of knockoff building I could think of. Backbreaking labor was such a pain, and to have to exert it for something as meaningless as a festival was just delusional.

Besides, It's not like anyone really gave a damn about the "cultural" aspect of the festival. In reality, it was just a cheap excuse to slack off and see the pretty girls in maid outfits. It was nothing but a perverted fanboy's wet dream. And I was _not_ some kind of fanboy.

It was just my luck, really. Parties are such a waste of my youth, and yet I'm thrust into one as soon as I start remembering how bad they are. Haven't the rom-com gods had enough fun toying with my life? Just leave me alone, you cheeky bastards!

"I'm sure you're all looking forward to participating!" My desperate teacher continued with a proud smile. True to her word, my low-IQ classmates all began to chat animatedly with each other, no doubt excited at the prospect of being able to do whatever the hell they wanted to for the next week and a half. Seriously, the entire festival structure was more flawed than the actual school system itself, and that's saying something.

"I can't wait to see what you all have in store for the school this year, and I'm excited to see all of you do your very best!" Her eyes, very conspicuously, made their way over to me. _"All of you."_

I grunted, rolling my eyes and burying myself deeper into my desk. Haha. Very funny, you old hag. Can you please stop making a scene now, please? You're giving me unwanted attention.

Yuigahama gave me a somewhat worried look, mouthing the words, "Good luck!" to me from across the room. Cease, you pink-haired buffoon. Spare me your worthless pity.

"Before we get started though, we need to select a theme for our class," Hiratsuka grabbed a bucket near the front of the class, before handing each of us a small slip of paper. "Write your ideas on this piece of paper. Whichever ideas with the most votes will be what we go with this year. Go!"

I heard the sounds of scribbling fill the room, a few perverted giggles quickly following suit. Honestly, the maturity level of this class was like that of an elementary school's. I didn't have a doubt in my mind that whatever would end up being chosen as our theme would be in some way detrimental to the female population's dignity. Oh well, not my problem.

Sighing, I took a lazy glance at my slip of paper. I didn't know what to write down. I didn't want to write _anything_ down. This entire thing was pointless to the millionth degree, and I wasn't going to indulge myself in such a shallow development.

My eyes wandered, scanning each of my classmates. Yuigahama looked stumped, rubbing her head with an angry look on her face. Jeez, relax. This isn't some sort of test. Though, it would be rather humorous if you somehow found a way to fail this exercise. God, I love mocking people.

I managed to spot Kawasaki in my peripheral vision. She'd actually bothered to come to school today, a surprising revelation. Normally after working her night shift, she hardly cared for coming to school, and since she'd wanted to increase her workload, her days of attendance during the week had become less and less. Not that you could really blame her, but it was still a bit disheartening.

Lately, however, she'd starting coming to class more and more often. Additionally, she'd revealed to me that her grades were steadily improving some time ago. Maybe she wanted to make up for all of the days she had missed? This sort of effort from her was unheard of previously, and more than a bit suspicious.

It wasn't like the class really minded her being here. Ebina was always thrilled to see her, at the very least. In a sense, she was like me— quiet, lonesome, and easy to miss. Of course, her social standing wasn't nearly as bad as mine was, but you get the picture.

I realized that I'd been staring at her back, and quickly tore my eyes away. I didn't want people getting the wrong idea. My status of a loner trumps everything in life, even if I catch myself admiring people from time to time.

My little daze had lasted a little longer than I thought it would, as I saw Hiratsuka-sensei begin to collect everyone's slips of paper. Realizing I still hadn't written anything down, I hastily folded my slip in half. I'd just act like I wrote something down. No biggie.

After Hiratsuka-sensei collected everyone's slips (she gave me a rather nasty look as she passed me, the devil), she began shaking the bucket around to shuffle them accordingly. "Remember, the most appropriate and affordable suggestion with the most votes wins. If there's a tie, we'll vote on it as a class. Ready?"

I didn't bother nodding in response. I shut my eyes and laid into my arms on the desk, hoping to catch a quick snooze while the voting unfolded. Maybe if I was lucky enough, that old hag wouldn't notice me sleeping, and I'd somehow manage to sleep through the entire day. Ah, what bliss that would be. It was during times like these where I wished I could live my dream of being a Super High-School Level Luckster.

Hiratsuka-sensei began reading off all of the slips. "Gaming arcade... a little pricey, but I'll think about it... a movie theater? Interesting idea, I like it! Next... a maid café? Tobe, this isn't an anime."

Said idiot guffawed in mild embarrassment, while rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry teach! I just, like, couldn't help it you know? It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!"

I groaned internally, trying my best not to vomit on my desk. Why was everyone in my class such an idiot. Why. _Why?_

As more and more generic suggestions came and went, I felt the urge to sleep becoming increasingly hard to ignore. My sleeping schedule was still as unstable as it had been since I started working, and consistent opportunities to catch up on any well-deserved rest were becoming fewer and farther between. I was beginning to fall asleep in the most random of places— the rooftop of the school, the bathtub, and even the clubroom had become impromptu bedrooms during my random fits of slumber.

Of course, it wasn't like I could help it. Sleep was a fundamental necessity for human beings, and even an energy-conserving master like myself couldn't properly function without it. Though, I openly questioned how some people (namely a certain silver-haired coworker of mine) managed to operate without occasional breaks.

Hiratsuka-sensei droned on and on, and I felt my mind begin to clear itself of any and all thoughts. Sweet jesus, was I tired. The mere thought of even moving my body seemed unrealistic and tiresome to me now. Maybe a few minutes of shuteye wouldn't hurt.

Drifting into unconsciousness, I felt my soul become at ease. Yes, this was what I had always yearned for. A laid back, easygoing existence, free of worries, stress, and above all else, riajuus. If I could, I would let myself be overcome by this euphoric feeling for the rest of eternity. Such was the resolve behind conservationists like myself.

Sleep was love. Sleep was life. Sleep was all I needed in this world, and nothing in this universe or the next would ever be able to tear me away from—

"Hikigaya Hachiman."

Well, it was worth a shot.

Hiratsuka-sensei was standing directly above my desk, leering at me like some kind of malicious predator— probably a cougar, were I forced to pick one (good one, Hachiman!). I admit, I'd have been a bit scared if not for the lingering feeling of pleasure from the solid three minutes of sleep I had managed to get. Maybe next time, I'll get three and a half minutes. A man can dream, can't he?

Not even bothering to hear what I had to say (as was the norm these days), Hiratsuka-sensei gave me her best Gendo Ikari impression as she glowered down at me with eyes barely concealing her outright anger. "I see you've finally awakened, Hachiman." Funny, I don't remember that line being used in the anime.

Choosing to remain silent, I elected to just stare at her and pretend that I didn't understand the problem. Feigned ignorance was hardly a tactic I hadn't been exposed to. In fact, it was a trademark move of a certain kouhai of mine, whom I had picked up the habit from after repeated exposure. It turned out that lousy puppet of a student council president was good for some things, at the very least.

Of course, the sudden attention entirely focused on me was hardly desirable. There were mixed emotions emitting from my classmates, based on what I could see. Some were quietly lamenting my impending doom, while others were trying their damnedest not to burst out laughing. Yeah, laugh it up while you can, fools. It won't be so funny once I mentally obliterate you with clever quips and disses, and subsequently think up of ways to make you suffer in the multiple imaginary scenarios playing in my head where I preside over you all.

"Care for an explanation?" Hiratsuka-sensei offered, though with a noticeable lack of sympathy. So she was going to give me a chance to clear myself, then? She must be feeling extra generous today. All that smoking must have finally gotten to her.

Lamely, I shrugged my shoulders as I stretched, trying my best to ignore the tension building in the room. "I was tired," I answered her casually. What? It was the truth.

Her eye twitched, indicating that I'd chosen the wrong answer. "Were you, now?" I kept my mouth shut, choosing not to risk being gut-punched into the wall behind me. My teacher's strength was unparalleled, though her fists were just the start.

The borderline hostility in the room was almost palpable now, even compared to before. My eyes nervously shifted away from my enraged teacher, and momentarily fell onto Kawasaki's frame. In contrast to how she usually acted in class, her attention was fully concentrated on me and Hiratsuka-sensei, while her eyes revealed traces of genuine worry. At least someone was concerned for my wellbeing. Not that it would help me in the eventual ass-kicking I'd receive, but it was still an appreciated gesture.

I silently grumbled. Yukinoshita was going to have a field day once she heard of this little scandal. I could already hear her blasting me relentlessly with lethal insults. Such was the depressing life of Hikigaya Hachiman.

"You know something," Hiratsuka-sensei started. "I don't believe I read what your idea was for the culture festival. Would you mind telling the class your suggestion?"

Great. _J_ _ust_ what I needed. As if you hadn't embarrassed me enough already. You know what, I take back what I said about marrying you when I got older. You deserve to rot as a single woman for all of eternity.

What was I supposed to say? I hadn't given any thought to this particular scenario. Perhaps I should answer with something super simple and basic, like everyone else had done? That might have helped me escape this fiasco.

Though, with Hiratsuka being as knowledgeable as she was, she would know immediately that I had lied if I gave her a normal-person answer. She probably already knew that I hadn't written anything down, and was just toying with me in order to force me to make a fool out of myself in front of everyone. She might have been single, but she was cunning to some degree.

God, this whole thing sucked. Can I just go back in time and pretend this never happened? I'd kill for a TARDIS right about now. Or maybe a DeLorean?

Hiratsuka-sensei, along with the rest of my classmates, was still waiting for an answer. Guess I'd just have to wing it, then. I decided to settle for the best answer that popped into my head during those next couple of seconds.

"How about an older singles' speed-dating restaurant?"

"..."

"..."

The human brain is made up of about 86 billion brain cells, along with 100,000 neurons and one billion synapses, all of which are fundamentally unique and constantly communicating with each other. Information can transfer through the brain at a maximum of 240 miles per hour, and it's storage capacity is practically unlimited. On average, humans can generate around 70,000 thoughts per day, and knowledge is constantly being added to our brains via outlets like school and the internet. It is widely believed and accepted that the human brain is the smartest thing on the planet when used to the fullest of its capabilities, and will continue to be for generations to come.

Additionally, the brain can process thoughts and questions in a matter of milliseconds, and formulate responses and thoughts just as quickly. Before I had managed to respond, my subconscious had likely thought up of thousands of possible acceptable responses that could have been used, and subsequently ended this situation on a rather happy note.

An older singles' speed-dating restaurant.

Out of all the possible responses I could have picked from, my brain had chosen that one.

I'd just rubbed my teacher's inability to find a romantic partner right in her face, with not a hint of regret or uncertainty— when she was mad no less.

Quietly, I sighed and awaited my doom. The rom-com gods strike again.

Hiratsuka-sensei, meanwhile, looked furious. No, not furious. Furious was much too tame a word to appropriately describe the look currently burning in my teacher's expression. The word "furious" probably couldn't even describe a tenth of the feeling Hiratsuka-sensei was feeling right now. In fact, I'd be willing to argue that there wasn't a word in any language or dictionary in the world that could describe the violent spasms currently coursing through my literature teacher's body.

My classmates, meanwhile, were all collectively horrified. Even the most obnoxious and unruly of my classmates didn't dare utter a word, or a breath for that matter. I wondered if they would all attend my funeral?

I shot a final silent prayer to Yuigahama, then to Kawasaki, and lastly to Totsuka. May we meet again in another life, my beautiful angel. I'll watch over you from heaven, or painfully dream about you in hell, or do whatever it is you do whenever you die. Honestly, I wasn't a real big fan of any kind of afterlife, but it wasn't like I had the option to pick.

"Hikigaya Hachiman..." Hiratsuka-sensei's voice was the lowest I'd ever heard it. I'd be impressed, if I wasn't scared shitless. She'd gone from Gendo Ikari to Johan Liebert in the span of a few minutes.

Her nails (claws, more accurately) dug into my desk, and she spoke with barely restrained rage. "That was a rather funny joke, my dear student. I had no _idea_ that you were such a class clown."

I felt offended. Class clown? _Me?_ The only funny thing about me was how hilariously hideous my eyes were. My middle school classmates can attest to that.

A wicked grin soon formed on Hiratsuka-sensei's face. From Gendo Ikari, to Johan Liebert, and now Alucard? If teaching didn't work out, she could definitely try her hand at cosplaying. She'd make a killing.

"But do you want to hear something _really_ funny?" She taunted. "Something that'll just make your gut _burst_ with laughter?" Well, that didn't sound ominous. Please continue, friendly citizen.

Her other hand slammed onto my desk, making me jump as I reflexively shielded myself with my hands. "Answer me, _Hachiman."_

"..."

"Well? I'm waiting."

"...yes, ma'am."

"Yes ma'am, what?"

"Please... continue, Hiratsuka-sensei."

An almost feral smirk made its way onto Hiratsuka-sensei's features, and she spoke with audible enjoyment. "Well, if you insist!" Man, I really wish I could disappear right about now.

"Since you're so adamant on participating in the cultural festival," She began. "I'll be appointing you as the head of our classroom's festival committee! That means that _you're_ in charge of managing the class before, during, and after the festival!"

...

Hmm, interesting.

 _Veeery_ interesting.

Honestly, I was beginning to worry for Hiratsuka. It seemed that she had finally lost the last shred of sanity she'd been storing within the far reaches of her mind. Seriously, Japan should do something about this. With such terrible pay and quite literally no gratifying rewards, more and more teachers were beginning to cross the line of complete and utter insanity. That, and she was still single. She really needed that emotional stabilizer in her life.

I mean, seriously. Just _look_ at her. She's looking at me with such serious eyes, after saying something so ridiculous and profoundly idiotic. She doesn't even realize her own joke yet! She can't even find it within herself to laugh at such a comedic claim!

In fact, no one was laughing at her comedic claim.

I wasn't laughing at her comedic claim.

...

Wait.

"Holyfuckingshityou'reactuallyserious."

She gave me a sickly sweet smile that all but sealed my fate. "I wish you the very best of luck, Hikigaya-kun."

Hiratsuka-sensei returned to teaching, and I spent the rest of my afternoon staring into a wall while dreaming of multiple ways to commit suicide.

* * *

"Ah, so school's got you down, eh, kid?"

"Yeah..."

"You know, when I was your age, I hardly ever attended school. I spent most of my time fighting thugs and reading porn."

"...that's nice."

It was pretty obvious that daddy-cop Isshiki wasn't really the best person to go to for advice. Then again, it wasn't like I had a ton of options to choose from.

Work was uncharacteristically slow tonight. We'd been getting a whole lot of buzz and attention after the whole incident with the college boys, so we'd been on the receiving end of a large influx of customers as of recently. During my last couple of nights, we'd been struggling to fit everyone at a table. Tonight was one of the rare nights where almost all of the tables were empty.

Actually, scratch that. All the tables _were_ empty. In fact, daddy-cop Isshiki was the only person in the bar that wasn't an employee.

It wasn't that I didn't like him. No, that wasn't it at all. He was surprisingly good company in the sea of dull and boring people I had to put up with in my day to day life. He had become a welcome regular in the bar as well— though, I wasn't sure if that was a necessarily good thing, considering the type of industry I worked for.

But, it wasn't like I could blame him. Being a cop probably sucked. Having to put up with other peoples' problems day in and day out with little to no reward sounded terrible. Hmm, sounds vaguely familiar, now that I think about it.

In the end, though, I could safely deduce that Iroha's dad wasn't the most reliable of people to go to. I mean, who the hell _reads_ porn anymore? That's what the internet is for. The future is now, old man.

The sound of a door opening from the kitchen grabbed my attention, and I was met with Oshino and Kawasaki walking into view, the former with a satisfied look on his face. "Whew, all done! Slow days like these are the best!"

Closing the distance between us in a few steps, Oshino was quick to greet our lone customer. "Yo, Saito! How are you this evening?"

"I feel like shit. Get me more whiskey."

"Isshiki-san, that's your fifth glass."

"Huh? Who's the silver-haired girl? You a friend of Iroha's?"

A soft chuckle from Oshino. "Now now, Kawasaki-chan. We shall never deny a guest, even the most ridiculous request!"

"Get him his drink before he files us for copyright infringement," I groaned. Oshino skipped away happily, leaving me alone with my classmate and my kouhai's wasted father.

"So, back to what we were talking about," The man turned his body towards me in as coherent a movement as he could muster. The second his jaw unhinged itself, I caught the reeking scent of alcohol oozing from his mouth. I should have probably given him a mint. Or twelve.

Wait, what was it we were talking about again? Oshino's sudden interruption made me lose track of the conversation I'd been having. Jeez, Oshino really did have a knack for coming at the worst possible time... wait, that came out wrong.

"Hikigaya," Kawasaki called to me, breaking me from my momentary lapse. "We need to talk. It's about school."

"Woah, woah, woah. Hold your horses, sweetie," daddy-cop Isshiki flailed his arms around in an incoherent mess, bringing the attention back to himself. "Hikigaya-san and I were already talking about that long before you barged in. You're gonna have to wait awhile before you can drag him to the closet with you."

Kawasaki took a step back, her own cheeks flaring at the man's bluntness. "W-What are you saying?"

"Oh, don't play dumb with me. I may not look like it, but I was in high school once before. I've seen the way you look at him. You're practically chomping at the bit to get some privacy with fish-eyes here, eh?"

More stammering and yelling. "N-No I'm not!"

A foxy grin snuck its way onto the drunk man's face. "Oh, that's right. You were much more vocal the last time you proclaimed your undying love for him— in front of the entire bar no less! I didn't peg you for an exhibitionist, but whatever floats your boat."

Kawasaki shook her head violently, as if trying to forget that the conversation even happened. In all honesty, I didn't really care to catch on to whatever subliminal messages those two were talking about in the first place. I was much more concerned with my own problems. Though, at least I now knew where Iroha got her sly tendencies from.

"Anyways, back on topic," daddy-cop Isshiki had apparently decided to start from the top. "So, you've been forcefully made into your classroom's... what did you say it was again?"

"Project manager."

"Project manager, okay. And now you're in charge of preparing your entire class for the cultural festival, is that right?"

I sighed. "Yeah, pretty much." I was surprised that he'd been following along so well, considering his current BAC.

"Oh, what's that I hear?" Oshino reentered the fray, a noticeable glint in his eyes as he passed our clearly intoxicated customer his fifth glass. "Did someone say something about a cultural festival?"

Before I could open my mouth and say otherwise, daddy-cop Isshiki managed to beat me to the punch. "Hikigaya-kun here is gonna manage his classroom's cultural festival."

I could have sworn that I saw fireworks shooting from my manager's head as he bounded over to me. "Really?! Is this true, Hikigaya-san?!"

God, I wish it wasn't. But it wasn't like I could just lie to him. Oshino knew just how to get what he wanted from me, no matter how much I tried to stop him from coming near me... damnit, not again!

I nervously rubbed the back of my head, trying my best to look at anything but his disgustingly happy face. "...yeah."

In response, Oshino almost exploded. "Oh, this is wonderful! I remember going to festivals back when I was in high school!" Trying to think of a younger, even more outgoing Oshino nearly made my head implode. Some things just weren't meant to be thought of.

"Well, what's your theme?"

I looked at Kawasaki for some help, but she merely averted her eyes from me. Abandoned, just like that? I guess I really am a true loner after all.

"Actually, I..."

Gosh, this was really hard to say out loud. It was as if my mind was wanting to say the words, but my physical body was choosing to remain unresponsive. Come to think of it, this must have been what it felt like to be a visual novel protagonist. Can I just marry the childhood friend and be done with it?

No. I couldn't back away from this now. Like the infamous Michael Corleone, I was already in too deep to just up and quit. Submission is a dish best served cold, after all. Wait, that's not the actual line. Oh well. It's still technically true, in a sense.

I took a deep breath, and spoke the words I never thought I'd hear myself say out loud.

"I need your help."

* * *

"So, your theme is a formal ballroom-style party?"

We had assembled in the break room in the back of the bar, in an attempt to gain some privacy. We'd all changed back into our normal attire, seeing that those stuffy outfits we wore for work weren't exactly the most comfortable garments. For such a high-class establishment, you'd have thought that they could have afforded higher quality clothes. Lousy rich people.

Oshino had deemed it okay to close shop for the night, so we were sure to not receive any interruptions. When asked if he would get in trouble, he laughed it off and claimed that the the people in charge would never have the gall to question his judgement. I was thankful for the gesture, even if I'd never admit that to him personally.

Daddy-cop Isshiki had gone home. By that point in time when I had announced my request, the hangover was finally starting to kick in for the enigmatic police officer. Oshino had called him a cab, and sent him on his merry way. I was sure he'd be back in a few days. Nothing could tear that man away from a few good drinks.

The entire situation still felt awkward for me. I wasn't accustomed to asking for help— most of the time, I didn't even entertain the idea that I needed help in the first place. Much like Kawasaki, I was independent to a fault, except that I never considered my own independence to be a fault of mine at all. Outsourcing my problems to other people felt like a waste of time, especially considering the numerous resources at my disposal, primarily my own intellect.

Additionally, if I ever thought of a time that I would need to call for assistance, I had always assumed that it would come in the form of my sister, or as of recently, the Service Club. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that I'd be receiving help from a reformed delinquent and an extroverted bar manager. The old me was probably disgusted with who I had become, and frankly, I didn't blame him for thinking that way.

Even so, the fact remained that I was currently stuck. Pinned. Immobile. Between a rock and a hard place. And as of now, the only people who could help me out of this jam were the people reclined on the loveseat across from me.

I shot another mental curse towards Hiratsuka. This whole thing had been her own doing. I wasn't at fault in the slightest. If she'd just let me sleep and ignored my entirely understandable fatigue, I wouldn't be in this mess. I'm seriously debating whether or not to file a lawsuit against her for disturbing the peace in my head.

"Hellooo? Earth to Hikigaya-kun?"

Shut it, peasant. Your very face gives me the urge to stick my head in a meat grinder. Actually, that idea doesn't sound too bad. I'll become a delicious, overly-bitter Hikkiburger, with my only aspiration to be eaten, digested, and turned into waste. Yeah, definitely going with that.

"Yeah. That's the theme."

Hiratsuka-sensei had decided on it shortly after anointing me to my new position. It was the only suggestion that had received multiple votes, three in total. I overheard Yuigahama and Miura not-so-quietly discussing idea, so I was able to figure those two as voters. Though, I never did discern who the third voter was. Wonder who that could have been?

"Very classy. I like it!" Oshino cheered, pumping an exaggerated fist into the air.

"It's not like I need total supervision," I decided to get back on track. The sooner I got this out of my system, the sooner I could forget about it. "I just need some tips for how to run this sort of thing."

"Oh, some pointers from someone in the business, eh?" Oshino shot me a coy grin. "Well, you've come to the right person, Hikigaya-kun!"

Loathed as I was to admit it, he was right. Oshino knew how to run a classy joint inside and out. If there was anyone who could help me with my predicament, it was him.

That being said, I still held my reserves when it came to asking him for help. He was still way too damn happy all the time. If I interacted too much with him, his boundless amounts of positivity would start to rub off on me. The very thought made me shudder.

"Look, I don't want you to get super involved in this, okay? I just need you to guide me. That's it."

"Would you prefer for me to come down to your school and assist?"

Before I could immediately shoot that idea to the ground, the more reasonable part of myself was quick to reconsider. Things would go a lot more smoothly if he was physically there to give me advice. Hell, if I played my cards right, I could get him to carry a majority of the workload. That idea alone was incentive enough for me to accept his proposal.

"Can you do that?"

"I'm free tomorrow and the day after. Plus, I can call in sick if I need to." He looked rather proud of himself as he spoke. "The top brass _loves_ me!"

An underhanded tactic to escape the confinements of employment? Maybe Oshino wasn't as bad as I thought he was.

"Alright. I'll take you up on that offer." Making sure he got the message, I added after that, "Don't disappoint me."

Giving an exaggerated bow, Oshino replied courteously. "I promise to help you to the best of my abilities, Hikigaya-kun."

I gave myself a mental high-five. That was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Komachi would definitely be proud of me when she heard that I had talked to my boss like a normal person.

"Hikigaya," Kawasaki spoke up from her side of the couch. "About what I was going to tell you earlier..."

Oh yeah. She was trying to tell me something in the barroom, during the commotion. "Yeah?"

Her legs fidgeted marginally. "I'm... going to help you."

I'm sorry, what? Did I hear that right? The second biggest loner after me was offering her assistance of her own free will? Had Armageddon decided to come early?

"What?" I replied, a bit too clumsily for my own liking.

"You and I both know that you can't handle this sort of thing by yourself," Kawasaki wasted no time in explaining herself. "You'd probably find someway to ruin it for the entire school body."

Hey, watch it. Just because my methods are unconventional doesn't mean that they don't get me favorable results. Where's this even coming from?

Out of habit, I made to decline her offer. "Thanks, but no thanks. Oshino and I can handle this by ourselves."

"I just said that you couldn't." Kawasaki's eyes narrowed. "Don't try to prove me wrong, Hikigaya."

Oho, is that a challenge I hear? Very well then, I accept. I'll play your little game, you silver-haired elf princess. Wait, wrong anime.

I leaned back into my chair. "What exactly are you basing your assumptions of my methods on? You said it yourself. You haven't physically been there to see how I handle things."

"And like I said before, I don't have to be." Without hesitation, Kawasaki refuted my counter. "Word gets around pretty quickly. Your public image is practically similar to that of a serial killer's at this point."

"And like _I_ said, you shouldn't base your opinions off of petty rumors. Words can be twisted and modified by anyone, especially by hormonal high school students."

Despite the current battle being waged between us, I felt a little more at ease with the girl sitting in front of me. This was more like the Kawasaki I was used to. Stubborn, hard-headed, and not easy to persuade. A very welcome sight in comparison to the blubbering, blushing mess from the previous days.

Even so, I was a bit confused. Why was she so intent on helping me over something as minuscule as this? Sure, some assistance would be welcome, but Kawasaki was one person I wasn't keen on recruiting. It wasn't that I didn't want her helping me— it was just that she had better things to do with her time than to help me manage some stupid festival. She had a scholarship to work towards, and siblings to feed. Those things were far more important than anything I had to do.

Plus, she was wrong about me not being able to handle it. Not only was she insulting my pride, but vastly underestimating my management skills. I could certainly boss around a couple of riajuus for a few days. In fact, when I put it like that, it sounded kind of nice. Like an aristocratic social system, but with loners at the top. A Geniocracy. A _Hikkiocracy._

Still, with that being the case, I couldn't have her one-upping me in this particular disagreement. Not only was she incredibly wrong, but it was just a stupid idea in general. She should know better than to try help someone when her plate was already full. Time management, woman.

I could just get the Service Club to help me, if things got too big for Oshino and I. As much as they annoyed me, they were rather helpful when I needed it. As such, Kawasaki was not needed in this scenario. She was getting worked up over nothing, and I was going to prove that to her.

Though, the look in her eye told me otherwise. Yikes, she's kind of intimidating. She's like an odd combination of Yukinoshita's wit and Hiratsuka's physical stature. A worthy adversary, indeed.

"It doesn't matter how much those opinions deviate from the truth. The fact that those rumors exist in the first place proves my point already," She gave her long hair a nonchalant wave, apparently trying her hardest to look dignified. I admit, she pulled it off rather well. "Besides, no one's going to want to take direction from someone as weird as you. You're hardly the leader type."

Tch, hypocrite.

"They have no choice. Unless they want their pathetic festival to fail, they'll have to listen to me."

Her frown deepened, and her eyes bore into me with an emotion I couldn't quite identify.

"Listen to you, or listen to each other?"

Before I could fully absorb her reply, Oshino was quick to step in. "Now, now, let's not get feisty with one another. We're all good friends, aren't we?"

Good friends? _Us?_ We've barely known each other for a few weeks. By your standards, my entire class and I should be great friends. Which, might I add, serves for pretty effective nightmare fuel.

"Hikigaya-kun, I know that you're concerned about Kawsaki's schedule," Oshino began, placing a reassuring (well, what he would call reassuring) hand on my shoulder. "But try to think from her perspective."

I blinked. Hadn't I already been doing that? "Her perspective?"

"Yes. She's seeing a close friend being placed into a difficult situation, correct? Wouldn't you want to help a friend of yours were they in a pickle?"

Honestly, I can't relate. I've had never had friends to worry about to begin with. The general feeling of concern for another has eluded me for the entirety of my youth— not that I had ever needed it. I had long ago deemed such a practice to be insignificant, in relation to my overall wellbeing.

Still, it is a bit interesting to think of. Even if I've never felt empathy before, I have witnessed others expressing it on multiple occasions. Yuigahama is the most common culprit, as she constantly shows genuine worry over others whenever we receive a request, most recently in Kawasaki's case. Yukinoshita also occasionally tries her best for our applicants, as was the case for Rumi's situation. Hell, even Hayama shows a bit of concern for the idiots he surrounds himself with every now and then. It wasn't like I hadn't seen such acts with my own eyes.

But seeing and feeling are two entirely different things. A fact I was painfully aware of.

"I... don't know." I gave Oshino my honest answer. This whole thing had been majorly blown out of proportion. At this point, I just wanted to go home and go to bed.

Oshino's calm look never wavered, though. "Maybe you don't know what it feels like. That's fine, you're still young. You'll know soon enough."

Would I know soon enough? That sounded too farfetched for someone like me. How would I even know what it felt like? Did I even want to know what it felt like?

"Still..." Oshino's eyes drifted over towards Kawasaki, who had looked away upon garnering attention. "It's pretty obvious that she wants to help you. I'm sure that she knows what she's getting into. She's a smart girl. So why not accept her offer?"

My eyes alternated from Oshino and Kawasaki. Would it be alright? I'd been so confident in my decision earlier, but that confidence was quickly beginning to disappear. Had I always been this fickle with my decision-making?

Unknowingly, Oshino scooted closer to me before whispering in my ear. "Besides, it's rude to deny a lady what she wants, yes?"

I quickly pushed him out of my personal space. Seriously, when was this guy not spouting such chauvinistic garbage? I needed a new manager.

"Hikigaya, I'm serious about this." Kawasaki's voice filled the room as she rejoined the conversation. "You need help. I'm willing to assist you. Don't deny yourself an easier way about this."

"Alright, I get it," I retorted quickly. Being constantly reminded about my inability to socialize with people was really starting to get old. "Jeez, of all the times you choose to pester me, you decide to do it at work?"

"I'm gonna keep going until you let me help."

Did she really just say that? You sound like a five year-old. Her brocon tendencies must be beginning to consume her entirely.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I heaved a great sigh. Seriously. What a pain it was to exist.

"...fine. Do whatever you want. I don't care."

After a moment of comprehension, an uncharacteristic and equally prideful smirk graced Kawasaki's features. "See? Was that so hard?"

Yukinoshita had said the same thing to me a few days ago. I felt my blood begin to boil. Make that two girls on the verbal hitlist.

"I'm proud of you, Hikigaya-kun," Oshino nodded his head with satisfaction. "You're able to recognize when you're in over your head, and willing to respond accordingly! Such an upstanding individual you are!"

"Yeah, whatever," I waved him off, stifling a yawn as I did so. "Can I go home now?"

"Why? Don't you want to talk a little more?"

Was this guy even human? "It's one in the morning. We can talk all you want tomorrow."

"But you never told me when to come down to your school!"

"I'll call you when we're ready. Bye." I made for the exit and grabbed my bag. Kawasaki gave a bow to Oshino, before quickly following behind me.

Just as I opened the door to leave, I heard my quirky manager mutter to himself. "Good luck with that, Saki-chan..."

* * *

My multiple journeys with Kawasaki to her home were, for the most part, uneventful. Neither she nor I were very talkative to begin with, even less so after a late night shift. She was tired, and I was tired. We simply left it at that.

The sound of our collective steps were the only sound accompanying us as we travelled along the concrete sidewalks, traversing through the multiple streets and high-rises. The clouds were in full effect tonight, so there was a noticeable absence in stars in the night sky, not that it bothered me. Stars were nothing but gargantuan spheres of extremely hot hydrogen and helium, burning from trillions upon trillions of miles away. Those who worshipped them, or looked at them as some sort of deeper meaning, were nothing but delusional riajuus wishing for a change of pace in their lowly lives, or looking for something to grant them positive, nonexistent luck in their empty, meaningless existences.

Stargazing was kind of nice, though. It was a surprisingly effective stress reliever. Komachi always liked stars, especially when she was little.

Currently, I was standing outside of a random convenience store we'd come across on the way back. Kawasaki had said that she needed to pick up some groceries for tomorrow's dinner, and I'd offered to give her some spare change. She had quickly declined my offer, and, as punishment for me trying to "belittle" her, had made me promise to carry her bags for her once she returned. Sneaky devil.

I'd been a bit surprised. This was the first time we'd made a detour in the few weeks I'd been escorting her. Had she gotten that comfortable around me?

No, it couldn't have been. We hardly talked to each other on the way back. As I stated previously, we were both far too fatigued to ever really make an attempt at conversation. And it seemed evident that neither of us really minded.

Of course, just because we didn't verbally say anything to each other didn't mean that we didn't communicate to each other at all. As fellow loners, we both realized that silence was but a construct— or, to put it more precisely, a tool to use and dispose of whenever we wished.

In a way, being able to maneuver around silence was an art. Most importantly, one had to be aware. You had to be able to identify subtleties in another, whether it be in their posture, features, or otherwise. Being able to accurately predict what another was feeling without them saying a word was but the foundation of countering any sort of absence in verbal communication.

Building upon that, one had to delve deep into their perceptive capabilities and be able to notice even tinier details of another, down to the smallest movements. The fluttering of an eyelash, the widening of the eyes, and the changes in one's breathing. Miniscule things a normal person wouldn't even think of paying attention to. That's how loners got their reputations for being observant creatures.

I was aware of these techniques, and I was fairly sure she was too. She wasn't as well-rounded a loner as I was, but she was beyond her years. If I was the captain of the loner vessel, she was my first mate. We challenged the never-ending tides of social normality, and rebelled against the current of corporate slavery upon the Queen Anne's Revenge (or, as I liked to call it, the Queen Totsuka's Revenge).

That's why we never found a real reason to talk to each other, even if work had us too tired to do so to begin with. I could tell exactly how she was feeling, simply based on how she walked and acted around me. Conversely, she did the same. It was a mutual thing we had going on, and an extremely efficient one at that.

Though, there were loopholes every now and then. Kawasaki had been getting harder and harder to read, especially as of late. She was doing things my loner database had never encountered previously. She was a rare enigma, per se.

In response to these new shifts in her mood, I'd elected to brush them off. It wasn't like there was some sort of deeper meaning to these strange new changes in Kawasaki's mood around me. No, of course not. I'm me, after all! I'm sure I'd know if any major developments began to occur. It wasn't like I was some dense idiot surrounded by girls who secretly liked me, and fawned over me when I wasn't looking. As if.

My tired assessments were interrupted when Kawasaki returned to my view, looking expectantly at me as she held out her hand, which was cramped with grocery bags. "Here."

Oh yeah, that reminded me. What had Komachi told me to do in these certain situations? I vaguely remembered her telling me something before I left my house this past afternoon. _"If Saki-chan ever needs help with anything, make sure you're the first to help her! And remember to be courteous to her!"_

Honestly, what she'd said was kind of stupid. I was already helping her just by being there to watch over her and make sure she didn't get harassed. Why should I have to bend my back even more for her? Did my sister forget everything I stood for?

But, I was feeling extra daring tonight. I didn't really know why, but I just was. Maybe I drank one too many cans of MAX Coffee? I needed to get the addiction hotline's number.

Swiftly, I grabbed all her bags in one quick motion, before transferring them all to a single hand. There were only three bags, so it wasn't that impressive, but I still felt a tad cool while doing so. Giving her a tiny, reassuring smile, I motioned to the sidewalk. "Shall we?"

Kawasaki's eyes widened, and she took a tiny step back. Was I really acting that out of character? Maybe I had an addiction problem _and_ multiple personality disorder. I was just a walking disease at this rate— though, I'm sure Yukinoshita would be quick to agree with me.

I passed by Kawasaki, and that was apparently enough to snap the silver-haired girl out of whatever temporary funk she'd been in, as she quickly followed in step behind me with a tentative, "O-Okay."

Eventually, we escaped the confines of the city, making our way into the calm, quiet suburbs I was more familiar with. My guard was much more relaxed whenever we reached this point in my escort. Nothing bad ever happened here, and that fact would remain so no matter how much I jinxed it.

Indifferently, I took a glance in the bags containing Kawasaki's meal for the next few days. I was quick to notice a whole lot of meat— pork, chicken, and few more varieties were only the first packages I saw. Her siblings must have really liked meat.

"Hey, Kawasaki."

She looked up at me, a bit surprised that I had actually made an effort to start conversation. "Yeah?"

"Do you cook a lot?"

Seemingly a bit thrown off by my random question, she took a moment to formulate a response before answering. "Well... not a whole lot. I'm decent when it comes to cooking. I know my way around a kitchen, at the very least."

"I see. You cook for your siblings, yes?" I followed up on her reply with another question.

A slight pause. "Mostly, but not always. I'll cook for my parents every now and then. It's never anything too fancy. Just a fun little pastime between us, I guess."

Hearing her say that made me think. She seemed so friendly and hospitable when she was with her family, but never revealed that kindness to anyone at school, or any other social setting. Why was that? She could make a ton of friends if she just exerted herself a little.

I'm sure she had a reason. Everyone has a reason for being who they are. It's just how life works. But still, even for someone who reads in between the lines as much as I do, I couldn't manage to pinpoint an obvious factor relative to why Kawasaki was who she was. Her true character eluded me to this very day.

Maybe I was thinking too deep. Perhaps she was just shy. I shouldn't be trying to assess who she is as a person purely based on the reason as to why she cooks for her family. I'm getting way, way too ahead of myself here.

"Hikigaya?" Kawasaki looked concerned when I didn't answer her immediately. Another oddity about her I couldn't quite wrap my head around.

"It's nothing," I lied. "I just think it's impressive that you're so dedicated to your family."

I noticed her eyes drift away from me as I said that. "It's nothing special... I'm just doing my job as a big sister. That's all."

An expected reply. Kawasaki was always the responsible, upstanding type. At least in that regard, I was able to figure her out.

A bit quietly, she continued. "If you want... maybe I can, you know... teach you?"

Woah.

 _WOAH._

Hold on, Hachiman. Don't go getting all excited now. It's just a gesture. Something super generic and appropriate for the current flow of conversation. It's nothing but a nicety, spoken only to get you to stop questioning her personal life. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yeah, that's it. No girl is _ever_ that nice to me. After all, who would want to be around me and my hideously repugnant dead-fish eyes™? I'm the ultimate female repellant. There's no way that she harbors any true, genuine interest for me as a person. What a hilarious and incredibly demeaning joke, Kawasaki! You almost got me!

I had to turn the tables on her. Show her that I wasn't some feeble, hormonal loser so easily swayed by the tricks of an attractive member of the opposite sex. I'm a loner, damnit, and I'll be sure you remember that fact!

"Why don't you cook for me some time? I'd love to try some of your dishes."

Hah, take that! I bet you weren't expecting that, eh, Kawasomething? By flipping sides and offering for you to cook for me, I have successfully avoided your faux advance and placed all of the pressure on you, thanks to my effective use of 「Ignore Question」. What will you do now, foolish classmate of mine?

Rather than find myself on the receiving end of an enemy stand, I heard a soft "Eep!" emitted from Kawasaki's direction. Turning, I was met with the sight of a rather flustered girl beside me, hiding her face deep in her scarf. Had I already won this brief scuffle?

"Something wrong?"

"No!" Kawasaki practically shouted in my face. "It's just... you said that so suddenly..."

There she went, acting all obscure and ambiguous on me again. Would it kill her to give me a straight answer for once? You're killin' me, Smalls!

As I stood there, I saw Kawasaki run a hand through her voluminous hair, twirling the end curls shyly. I admit, she looked a little cute just now. Her hair was always one of the most fascinating aspects about her, in my opinion. Not that I totally thought about that topic all the time in my head.

Unwillingly, I felt my eyes begin to wander. Kawasaki had tried something new tonight, and had opted not to wear simple clothes, as she usually always did— rather, she looked a lot more feminine this time around. She was adorning a long, thick sweater the same color as her hair, in addition to a knee-length, cream-colored skirt. Rather than her typical work shoes, she had instead chosen to sport a pair of black boots that reached halfway to her knees.

It felt a bit out of place. Kawasaki, to my knowledge, was never much of a fashionista. Before tonight, all I had seen her wear to work were a rotating selection of dress shirts and slacks, with not a lot of color variety. Now, however, she looked entirely different. Was she trying to impress someone?

To anyone else, she appeared as a young, popular high school student shining in the prime of her youth, brimming with an untainted beauty. She was gleaming with a glow that I'd never witnessed before, and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't the tiniest bit allured to her.

Shit, snap out of it! I'm starting to sound like one of those glassy-eyed losers from shoujo magazines! A veteran loner like myself should never be beguiled by the false illusions of high school girls, not after all I've been through. I am immune to the sirens' cries!

I'd have to be extremely careful from here on out. If I wasn't, I might have ended up seriously falling for this girl. That wouldn't be good. I needed to get my composure back, and fast.

I forced my eyes away from her, deciding to finish the journey to her house. "Come on. It's getting late."

That apparently snapped Kawasaki out of whatever reverie she'd been in. Had she been staring at me? "O-Okay."

After a few more minutes of silence, we eventually came upon Kawasaki's street. Normally, I'd drop her off and tell her goodnight at this point, but something about that idea didn't feel right. I felt like I couldn't just leave her, with how I was now. I had something to say, but at the same time, I didn't know what it was that I wanted to say to her. So, wordlessly, I followed beside her on her street. She made no move to stop me.

I'd been on her street a few times before. Purely by coincidence, of course. I'd come through here whenever I would run the occasional errand or two, or whenever Komachi would force me to go to the movies with her. In a sense, that tiny bit of familiarity helped to calm me down as I walked. Not that I was uneasy, but being comfortable always beat being uncomfortable.

Briefly, I wondered if Kawasaki and I had ever crossed paths with each other before. Would that be a good or a bad thing? Loners didn't always get along with each other. In fact, you could argue that loners tended to dislike each other more often than they liked each other. Who knows?

We stopped in front of Kawasaki's house. For what felt like an eternity, neither of us said a word. It was awkward, but not quite to the point where I felt obscenely uncomfortable. For now, all I could focus on was the girl in front of me, as she slowly turned to face me.

"...thanks for walking me back."

That was the first time she had thanked me since she had requested my services. Huh.

"You're welcome." I couldn't think of anything witty to say. Now hardly seemed like the appropriate time.

Another bout of silence. In the back of my mind, I wondered what we would like if any sudden people passed us by. Two teens, standing within close proximity of each other under a cloudy night sky, facing each other with full concentration, eyes glued to each other... on second thought, maybe I didn't want to know.

"Hey, um..." I scratched the back of my head, mindful of the grocery bags I was still carrying. Why was I so nervous all of a sudden? "...thanks."

Her head tilted slightly, her long ponytail bobbing as she did so. "For what?"

Ugh, you're making me explain myself? Don't make this any harder for me than it already is, woman.

"For, you know... offering to help me. That was really selfless."

In retrospect, I didn't know why I decided to tell her that. Showing gratitude was hardly one of my strong suits, and to do it so suddenly was baffling to my subconscious. Had that been what I had wanted to tell her? Had I followed her home just so I could give her a measly thanks?

I mentally grimaced. Well, it wasn't like I could go back in time and ponder my decision. Unlike in certain anime where you had the opportunity to go back in time and correct your mistakes, this was the real world. And here, you had to live with your own decisions. I ought to know that better than anyone.

Kawasaki looked rather perplexed in her own right. I couldn't really blame her— she must have been put off by what I'd said to her. I guess I'd be weirded out too, if some random nihilist starting thanking me out of the blue.

Then, out of nowhere, she spoke.

"That's... really unlike you."

My mouth opened slightly. Had she really just said that?

Well, actually, I shouldn't have been that surprised. I was thinking it, and it was obvious that she was too. But for her to actually say it out loud, right in front of me... for the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to say.

Kawasaki must have realized how odd her sentence was too, and she quickly made to correct herself. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it in like, a _bad_ way, or anything! I swear! It's just... what you said was so... I don't know..."

"I-It's fine," I stuttered, trying to calm her down. Well, both of us down. Jeez, this was _not_ how I had hoped this would go. Serves me right for trying to be nice to people.

"No, I-I'm sorry. I totally messed this up," Kawasaki's eyes met the concrete ground. She must have been even more embarrassed than I was.

Shifting my feet, I found my body unintentionally start to heat up. Kawasaki must have been feeling the same sort of pressure, as I saw her begin to rub her arms and fiddle with the hem of her skirt. I unknowingly started glancing at random things around me. Anything to try and help lighten the mood. Briefly, I was reminded as to why I didn't have any close friends.

I needed to get out of here. The last thing I needed was to lose sleep over how I acted in front of a girl. I already had plenty of nightmares about that already.

Clearing my throat, I recollected myself before taking a tentative step backwards. "I'm gonna head home now."

Her eyes shot upwards at me, irises reflecting the light of the street lamps next to us. Man, she had really pretty eyelashes... wait, focus, you moron!

"Oh. Um... yeah. Okay."

Her voice faltered a little. Huh, that was weird. Was she... disappointed?

Wait, no. Don't even think about anything. Just give her the groceries, say goodnight, and go home.

Slowly, almost painfully so, I extended my occupied hand to her. After a moment, she stared at the bags with what looked to be confusion, almost as if she had entirely forgotten they were there to begin with. Which, in of itself, was pretty rare. Kawasaki was usually always on top of things.

Eventually, she took the bags from me, and I tried my hardest to ignore the feeling of her hand brushing against my own. "Well, goodnight." There, I did it. In as courteous a manner I could manage, without stuttering. Just as I had been doing the previous nights. Nice job, Hachiman.

"Hikigaya!" She called to me, just as I was making to leave. The slight urgency in her voice was a bit troubling. I turned to face her, albeit without an abundancy of poise.

I expected her to still be a blubbering mess, but I was surprised when I was met with the complete opposite. In those few couple of seconds, she must have somehow managed to summon her usual courage and wit about her, if her posture was anything to judge off of. Her cheeks were still the tiniest bit flushed, but she looked composed nonetheless as she eyed me.

"Thank you for accepting Oshino and I's help. I know that you don't like having to rely on others, but you did the right thing. I promise that I won't let you down."

It was short, but her message had been conveyed clearly. Truthfully, I hadn't been expecting this from her. Then again, I hadn't been expecting a lot of things from the silver-haired girl. If you would have told me a few months ago that the most prideful girl in my class was offering her help to me of her own free will, I would have laughed. No, I would have _cackled._ Such was the improbability of such a notion.

But lately, she'd been proving me wrong time and time again. She seemed to have been going the extra mile not just for herself, but for those around her, including me. No, _especially_ me. I was definitely unused to this sort of attention, doubly so coming from Kawasaki, of all people. Was this intentional? Did she have some sort of goal in mind? Was I being blackmailed without my knowing?

Maybe Kawasaki Saki was every bit as smart as I really thought she was.

"If you ever need anything else, don't hesitate to come talk to me." In as unexpected a fashion as she could manage, she bowed slightly, before shooting me the tiniest of smiles. "We're coworkers, after all."

And then she left, light footsteps making their way through the front door, and into her house. The door shut, and I was left alone, bewildered under a flickering streetlight.

I wanted to think about what had happened. Not just tonight, but ever since I had accepted her request. We were definitely a lot more closer than we had been previously, though it remained to be seen what would come of this newfound kinship. Would it progress even further, or would we eventually stall and sputter out? I honestly didn't have a clue.

Could I call Kawasaki Saki a friend? Perhaps. I wouldn't quite go there yet, but there was definitely potential. I'd let fate decide, since it was so keen on controlling everything else in my life. Gosh, I'm so whipped.

I debated thinking about it further, but a yawn quickly dispelled those thoughts. I needed sleep, badly. As a wise man once said, I would leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's me. Such was the mantra of my existence.

Just before I could leave, though, I heard a noise coming from inside Kawasaki's home. It was loud, high-pitched, and definitely excited. Was someone squealing in there? It must have been Keika. She was always excited to see her big sister, after all. When did her voice get so developed, though?

The trek home was silent, and thankfully, quick. I entered the house without causing too much of a racket, sneaking up the stairs as quietly as I could as to not wake anyone up. Retreating to my bathroom, I brushed my teeth, changed into some comfy undergarments, and crashed onto bed. I'd take a shower tomorrow morning. I was too tired to do much of anything, now that I was already in bed.

I shut my eyes, and snuggled deep into the comfort and warmth of my bed. Sleeping was fun, especially when you didn't get reprimanded for doing it at school by your teachers, and didn't force yourself into working grueling tasks because of it. Ugh, tomorrow was going to suck.

Repentance comes to everyone, though, and soon I managed to drift away into the comfortable bliss that was sleep, free from all known forms of pressure, distraction, and above all else, worries.

Well, it would have been, if a certain silver-haired girl hadn't invaded my dreams.

* * *

 _ **This chapter was an absolute bitch to finish. You have no idea how many times I edited and revised this.**_

 _ **Not a lot of progression in this chapter, I know. Sue me. Don't worry, there will be plenty of semi-dramatic shenanigans awaiting our cynical loner next chapter. A fan-favorite makes her first appearance in the next installment as well, so stay tuned for that.**_

 ** _Anyways, regarding the real world, did you hear the news? Watari finally got his ass in gear and will be releasing the 12th light novel on September 20th! If you can't already tell, I'm about hyped as shit, and I cannot WAIT until the English version gets shipped to the states. Two years is far too long for a fan to wait._**

 ** _But yeah, I'm excited. I'm sure it'll be great, regardless of whoever's waifu comes out on top. My money's on Yukinoshita, but you never know._**

 ** _Anyways, thanks for reading. School starts back up for me soon, so there may be a bit of a delay in updates, but I'm intent on finishing this. I try to put as much content and quality into each of these chapters as I can, so your patience is very much appreciated._**

 ** _One last thing. Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews. I appreciate all of the constructive criticism and support you guys have given me so far. It goes a long way in helping me churn out these 10k+ word chapters. Keep it up!_**

 ** _Again, thanks for reading, and I hope to see you guys next time! Have a great day!_**

 ** _~Slalem_**


	4. IV

_**Unknowingly, Hikigaya Hachiman reciprocates.**_

Mornings were never my strong suit. The fact that I rolled out of bed and slammed my face onto the floor only reinforced that notion.

I groaned rather pitifully. My nose was hurting, my forehead was hurting, everything was hurting. Geez, just my luck. Now all I needed was for the bookshelf to inexplicably fall right on top of me, thus making me the world's first human pancake. Well, the world's first deceased human pancake.

I snickered. Even if I was a pancake, I'd still have more curves than Yukinoshita. Pancakes are exceedingly more alluring than ironing boards, after all. Hehe— ouch. It hurts to laugh.

The sound of my bedroom door opening alerted me to unwanted company. Hurriedly, I glanced over to make sure my porn stash was hidden, sighing in relief when I found my magazines masterfully concealed under my bed's mattress. Not today, rom-com gods. Not today.

"Onii-chan? Are you okay?" Komachi's familiar voice announced itself as she peeked into my bedroom. "I heard a loud thump."

"I'm fine," I quickly replied, getting myself upright. "Just fell out of bed."

Komachi sighed, disappointed. "Yeah, that sounds like you. Though, knowing you, I'm sure you're used to embarrassing yourself by now and took the fall like a champ! Oh, I bet that one earned a lot of Komachi points!"

I rolled my eyes. Yep, that's my little sister. The most adorable deviant I know.

Komachi's eyes parked up visibly, as if she remembered something. "Oh yeah, Onii-chan, I forgot to ask, but shouldn't you be hustling to school right about now?"

I took a glance at my clock, thinking I might have overslept. Thankfully, I was still on schedule. "No. Why?"

"Aren't you supposed to be managing your classroom's cultural festival?"

Huh? How'd she know about that? Was there a mole amongst my group of acquaintances?

"Who told you that?" I'd only been managing the class for a couple of days now. Had the rumors finally gotten to her?

Striking a cutesy pose, she winked in my direction. "That information is classified, Onii-chan!"

That sly little... whatever. It didn't really matter. I'm sure she would have found out sooner or later. Komachi has this uncanny ability of knowing where I am and what I'm doing at any given time. Her Onii-chan sixth sense, I guess I could call it.

Grumbling, I got to my feet. Komachi continued off of what she said before. "To be honest, I was really surprised when I found out! You hardly ever exert yourself for anything, much less for something like the cultural festival!"

"Yeah, well don't get used to it," I replied, rubbing my neck. "This is a one-time thing."

She pouted. "Aw! Why's that?" Hey, don't try to guilt trip me. That's below the belt.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I was forced into volunteering."

"Forced?"

Grabbing a fresh pair of undergarments, I made my way to my bathroom. "It's a long story."

While Komachi didn't appear satisfied with my explanation (or lack thereof), she seemed to respect the fact that I didn't wish to discuss it with her. "Whatever you say, Onii-chan. Breakfast will be ready soon, so hurry up and shower, 'kay?"

I gave her a curt nod, and watched as Komachi skedaddled out of my room, shutting the door behind her as she left. Surprisingly, I felt much more relaxed that Komachi hadn't decided to press on about my situation at school. At the very least, she was less intrusive than most of the other people I happened to know. Though, her gossiping habit was definitely something I wished she wouldn't partake in as often as she did.

I showered quickly, threw on my school uniform and made my way downstairs. I was doing good on time so far— I'd normally try to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep, but my head was still ringing a bit after my little fall, so that was out of the question. I really hoped that wasn't an omen of things to come. With all of these unfortunate events befalling me of late, I was well overdue for some good luck.

Komachi had just finished setting the table. Two plates of eggs and toast sat opposite of each other. My little sister had apparently decided to go with something conservative and easy to make today, probably to preserve her energy. I'm disappointed, but proud at the same time.

Komachi noticed me walking in and beamed. "Good timing, Onii-chan! Maybe you're not as much of a slob as Yukinoshita-san says you are!"

Taking my seat, I rolled my eyes. "Why would you listen to anything that delusional rich girl says in the first place?"

Komachi took her seat across from me shortly after taking a trip to the kitchen to wash her hands, and after saying our thanks, we started eating. The eggs, as I had expected, were phenomenal. After all, Komachi had years to acclimate her cooking to accurately suit my tastes. Anything less than sensational was unworthy to be called my wonderful little sister's eggs. I was definitely spoiled, in that sense.

Silence ensued over the table for an extended period of time. Not that I minded— any time spent eating should have been solely dedicated to silently appreciating the cook's work. Filthy casuals who spent their time talking over a hot, delicious meal were directly disrespecting the effort poured into the food itself. Such a lack of respect was entirely appalling.

Of course, I'm not implying that the social plebeians had any respect towards others to begin with. That'd be giving them way too much credit. But that's another topic for another day.

"Onii-chan, are you alright?" Komachi pulled me from my thoughts, giving me a cautious look from across the table. "You have this gross look on your face. I'd appreciate it if you would stop, I'm trying to eat."

Damnit, that Ice Bitch really had started to infect Komachi. That sounded just like something Yukinoshita would say! I'd have to have a little chat with her about tainting my sister's naïve and innocent mind.

"I'm alright," I replied, albeit a bit despondently. "Just got a lot on my mind, is all."

Komachi seemed intrigued. "Ooh, like what?"

"Why are you so interested?" I decided to go for a wary approach. A curious Komachi was a dangerous Komachi.

"No reason," Komachi countered, trying her best to manage a stoic expression as she took a bite out of her buttered toast. "Say, Onii-chan?"

"Hm?"

"How's Kawasaki-chan?"

My eyes narrowed. "Okay, now I _know_ you're up to something."

She frowned in accordance with my suspicions. "I'm just wondering!"

"Mhm," I took a quick swig of orange juice. "I'm sure you were."

I was content just to leave it at that, but Komachi pressed further. "Well, how is she?"

"How is who?" I played dumb. In turn, Komachi pouted.

"Kawasaki-chan! Stupid Onii-chan!"

Hostile now, aren't we? And I had just praised you earlier for minding your own business. Now that I think about, in a way, I'm like an off-brand version of King Midas— everything I touch (or talk about, rather) turns to gold (the gold, in my case, is shit).

"She's doing fine," I gave her as simple an answer as I could manage. I wasn't willing to disclose the entirety of my "relationship" with her to Komachi quite yet. "Why are you so fixated on her?"

My little sister looked around sheepishly, as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have. "N-no reason. Like I said before, I'm just curious... you two have been spending a lot of time together, after all."

The moment she finished talking, she covered her mouth. The damage had already been done, though.

"Komachi," I started slowly. "How do you know that?"

"U-Um..!" My sister's eyes frantically looked for escape. "I don't know anything! J-Just a guess!"

Seeing Komachi flustered set off a flurry of red flags in my mind. It was obvious that she was hiding something, but that very fact in itself was troubling. My little sister rarely decided to keep things concerning me in the dark— so much so that it was almost unnatural whenever she did attempt to conceal something from me. I was her most trusted confidant, after all.

Something had to have been wrong with her. Was she sick? Had Yukinoshita unknowingly affected my dear sister with some incurable disease? As much as I'd love to acknowledge (and trademark) the existence of "Yuki-germs", that scenario seemed rather unlikely. Which only meant that someone else was informing my little sister, and giving her false delusions.

Wait. She had been talking about Kawasaki, right? There are only a few people on this great green earth who know about my part-time job with Kawasaki, and both of those aforementioned individuals are in the Service Club. But Yukinoshita, abominable as she might be, is most certainly not the type to spread that sort of information out randomly. And, as much of a ditz as she is, neither is Yuigahama. That _should_ rule them out.

Then, who else? Isshiki Iroha could be a possibility. But then again, what good reason would daddy-cop have to tell her daughter that I work at a bar? For an alcoholic police officer, he seems pretty capable of keeping things on the down-low. Besides, even if Isshiki had somehow learned of my new pastime, what reason would she have to tell Komachi?

If it wasn't them, then who was it? Those are the only three people who could have possibly known and tattled to Komachi. There wasn't another person on this planet who could have possibly—

Wait.

How could I have forgotten?

Kawasaki Saki... has siblings.

One of which happens to be of similar age to my little sister.

"Komachi... have you been talking to any _bugs_ recently?"

Komachi looked confused. "Huh?"

Oh, that's right. Unfortunately, that abhorrent insect had a name.

"Sorry. What I meant to ask was, have you, by chance, been conversing with... _Kawasaki Taishi?"_

Her eyes immediately widened, giving me all the confirmation I needed. Looks like I was going bug-hunting later this weekend.

"B-But, Onii-chan!" Komachi frantically tried to redeem herself. "You told me that you'd gotten a job at some grocery store in town! Not some high-end bar!"

"Because you have no business knowing that I work there," I shot back with a disappointed gaze. "And if I would have told you, you would have wanted to come. Which, by the way, you are _absolutely not_ permitted to do under _any_ circumstances."

"I know, I know," Komachi grumbled. "But still, you should have told me that you were working with Kawasaki-chan!"

For what felt like the millionth time that morning, I asked, "Why?"

"So I could hook you two up, of course!"

My stomach felt a little weird at the mentioning of that. "Hook us up?"

"Yeah! Taishi-kun and I are all for it! We just need you two to—"

"You know what, never mind." I interrupted. I didn't need to hear where this conversation was going. "I don't care. Stop talking about it, please."

It came out a bit angrier than I had intended it to. Maybe I was still a little grumpy from falling out of bed. My voice rarely rises above a set amount of decibels, especially in the morning. Komachi knew that well.

Thankfully, Komachi seemed to get what I was trying to say, and relented. "Well, if you insist."

"Also, don't tell go telling people about my job. I have no idea _why_ that inse— er, Taishi-san decided to pass that on to you, but you aren't allowed to disclose this information to _anyone._ Got it?"

A nod. "Got it!"

I half sighed and half groaned. Just great. This was the absolute _last_ thing I wanted. Now I had Komachi trying to scheme some way to get me popular with people through my job. I love her to death, but this is too much.

I needed to find a way to silence anyone who knew about my job. Hell, at this rate, everyone in town would somehow know that Hikigaya Hachiman was working— underage, mind you— at the Angel Ladder. Not only would that shine a negative light on me, but it would shine on Kawasaki, too. That was something I absolutely couldn't afford to bring about. She trusted myself and the Service Club with her secret, and I certainly wasn't willing to haphazardly betray her trust.

Of course, ensuring all of the witnesses' silence was much easier said then done. I'd somehow have to— and it makes my skin crawl to even think of this— get _close_ to Kawasaki's brother and convince him to shut his yapper. And, sometime in the near future, I'd have to have a discussion with Isshiki about my job as well. She was bound to coerce that information from someone sooner rather than later.

Though, Isshiki has been M.I.A. as of recently. That whole faking to be a good student council president must be taking up a lot of her time. That makes it all the more difficult to get ahold of her. Typical.

Honestly, this was such a pain. Not only was my school life a disastrous mess, but it seemed that my personal life was starting to quickly follow suit. Yeah, that good luck I mentioned earlier should be arriving any day now.

"Hachiman," Komachi meekly called from across the table. It must have been serious— she hardly ever used my real name. "Are you mad at me?"

I'd been expecting this. A question as old as time itself had finally revealed itself. Though, the way she said it made me feel like some sort of disappointed, doting parent. Well, our relationship was never really much of a traditional "brother-sister" one to begin with— no, it's not like _that,_ I swear.

Was I mad at her? A hodgepodge of emotions were swirling through my head, but anger at her wasn't really one of them. Disappointment? Yes. Irritation? Most certainly. These things came with little sisters, after all. I already knew that plenty well.

But I knew that Komachi was just doing her best to look out for me. Sure, it was a pretty stupid thing to hide from me. But we were both pretty stupid. We're Hikigayas, after all.

I stood up, at the surprise of my little sister. In a few short strides, I made my way over to her side of the table. We stared at each other for a few short seconds— my own rotten eyes staring into her glistening, innocent ones.

Then, I lightly pat her head with my hand.

"As if I could stay mad at you," I said with a tiny smile. "You're my precious imouto, aren't you?"

She brightened instantly. "Of course I am, you dummy! And don't you forget it!"

Well, that was a happy ending. Komachi was, in most cases, rather easy to handle. If only the rest of my life was that simple.

I took a glance at a nearby clock. Right on schedule, with a few minutes to spare.

Turning to collect my finished dish, I made to wash my plate. "Hurry up and finish, we should be heading out soon."

A coy smile formed on my sister's face. "Ooh? So eager to see your girlfriend this morning?"

"I have no such thing. Shut up and eat."

"...I know a couple of people willing to change that, you know..."

"What was that?"

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

I used to think that riding my bike to school would, inexplicably, make me popular.

That was another product of my wishful, naïve thinking from when I was younger. I'd read about it in health magazines and manga, back when it was still a fad, and had automatically assumed that if I were to arrive at school in a shiny metal steed, that I'd have been topping the social hierarchy in record time.

Of course, I was immediately disappointed upon learning the truth. For one, I wasn't even able to show off my bike on the first day of school (thanks, Sable), putting me at a disadvantage from the get go. Secondly, I was surprised to learn that I was one of roughly a dozen students who actually bothered riding a bicycle to school. I was understandably confused, until I had learned that the magazines I had been taking popularity notes from were published around two years prior to me reading them.

It didn't take long for me to discern the truth concerning bicycles. I was still as inconspicuous as I always was when I rode one, and if I was noticed by someone whilst riding one, it was so that they could mock me for using such an outdated means of transportation. "He can't even afford the public transit? What a broke, hopeless loser!"

Despite these continuous jeers, I never found a reason to give up bicycling to school. For one, it was faster than walking, and less of a hassle than having to sprint to school, were I ever to be short on time before the first bell rang. On colder days, the wind in my face felt nice, and the leisurely pace I could ride with was oddly refreshing. It was pretty good exercise, too.

In somewhat of a weird way, my bike was like my best friend. It had been there for me since day one, through all of the ups and downs (mostly downs) that the school year continuously threw at me. My bike didn't interject its worthless opinion needlessly, or try to offer some half-hearted advice to me. It just rolled and rolled, silently understanding all of my hardships and grievances without me having to utter a single word.

Is it saddening that an old and outdated inanimate object is my closest ally? Perhaps. Is it impractical? Not in the slightest.

Standing outside of the school building, I wished that I could have somehow kept my bike with me during class. The building sense of dread spreading within my bowels was making me feel uneasy. This had been a regular occurrence since I had taken up the position of project manager, and had persisted for quite awhile. Maybe I really _was_ allergic to working.

I gave my old friend a pat on her worn out handlebars, as I set gently her against the bike rack. Farewell, my sweet. May we reunite after this conflict is over.

The walk to class was slow. Well, slower. Rushing to class was a rather pointless endeavor in my eyes. Rushing _anywhere_ was a rather pointless endeavor in my eyes. Rushing to a place you very clearly didn't want to be in was downright suicidal.

Thus, I had taken to indulging in many more detours on my way to my class. Stopping for water breaks, using the restroom, taking different flights of stairs, that type of thing. As it would happen, these journeys by the wayside had expanded my knowledge of the school to a greater extent— whether that was for better or worse, however, remained to be seen.

After my third stop by the water fountain, I decided that was enough stalling for one morning. The human safety hazard known as Hiratsuka was still very much on my case about the whole manager thing, and being punctual was a high point on a very long list of expectations she'd forced on to me. Typically, I'd do my best to ignore these expectations, but as someone now in a position of ""power" (I use that term extremely loosely), I had to set a good example.

As some classmate of mine— whose name I can't remember— said a few days ago, I was now the "starting quarterback of my class", and we had to try our best to "defeat our cross-country rivals known as the cultural festival", in a rather pitiful attempt to elicit some laughs. Though, from what I'd seen so far, we had a pretty solid chance of getting blown out by our aforementioned rivals, and everyone else after that.

The journey back to my class was painstakingly short, and as I neared the entrance, I could already hear a commotion from inside. That was hardly ever a good sign. Sighing, I gave a mental count to three, before sliding the door open as quietly as possible, attempting to draw as little attention to myself as I could manage.

Oshino was the first to spot me from across the room, roughly a half second after I had opened the door. He had a habit of arriving to school much earlier than I did during his off days, presumably just to get to know my classmates. The class absolutely loved the guy, so it wasn't too much of a problem, at least for them. "Top of the morning, Hikigaya-kun! How are you?"

Ugh, early morning conversation. The very bane of my existence— well, the second biggest bane to my existence. Yukinoshita had sole possession of first. "Fine."

Oshino, however, seemed intent on having a lengthy discussion about nothing with me this morning. "Fine? Surely there's something you're looking forward to on this glorious day! Let's make today better than yesterday, okay?"

I could practically feel the admiration and awe oozing from my classmates as they stared upon my employer. This must have been where crappy animation studios got the idea for the concept of putting exaggerated heart eyes on high school students. The people before me looked about as ridiculous as those anime characters did.

"Is there something you need?" I prodded along, dropping my school bag off near my desk. Oshino normally didn't egg me on this much unless he needed me to do something for him.

The sneaky bastard gave me a genuine smile. "Yes, actually! Hiratsuka and I were wondering if you would go down to the crafts room to help Kawasaki-chan with decorations. She said that she would do it alone, but it's nice to have some supervision, you know?"

I had actually been expecting much worse. Oshino was allowing me to skip class, as well as my managerial duties, just to help someone I actually tolerated set up streamers and balloons? It almost felt too good to be true.

"Is that all you need?" I asked him, still a bit wary. Nothing ever went this well. Not ever.

"Yep, pretty much," Oshino nodded enthusiastically. "I'll be sure to keep things in order on this front. You just make sure Saki-chan isn't in over her head!" Oshino then turned back around to face my classmates, resuming some conversation I must have inadvertently interrupted upon my entering.

It was a tad ironic. Since he had arrived, Oshino felt more like the class festival manager than I ever had. Of course, given his natural charm and charisma, no one really had a problem with him telling them what to do. People tended to listen to him more so than they listened to me. Even when I made the rare attempt at suggesting something, it usually deviated from something that Oshino had stated previously.

But, I had very little qualms with this change in circumstance. For the first time ever, I actually felt okay being used as a puppet. Less work was a welcome acquisition in exchange for a bit of my pride.

Inwardly, I chuckled dryly. Even though I'd been adamant on telling him only to guide me through the managerial process, he'd gone ahead and pretty much taken the reigns from me entirely. And I wasn't going to do anything about it. Typical.

I promptly exited my classroom, leaving the sounds and activity behind me as I meandered my way over to the crafts room. It was on the other side of the school, and was hardly ever used, the rare exceptions being for preparation before graduation and the occasional meeting place for the art club. I wouldn't be surprised if the room was empty, exempting Kawasaki.

Briefly, I wondered as to why Kawasaki had insisted on making crafts by herself. I hadn't ever really known her to be a very artsy person, given her demeanor and schedule. Maybe she had a secret gallery of paintings or sculptures that I didn't know about? The possibility of finding a few clay statues of her many siblings within the confines of her room didn't seem very farfetched in my mind.

A few silent minutes had passed, and I found myself closing in on the room's entrance. The hallway was vacant, and rather silent, resulting in my footsteps being amplified to a small degree. I wonder if Kawasaki could hear me getting closer? She probably doesn't even know it's me. I quietly entertained the idea of scaring her upon entering the room, before discarding the idea just as quickly. I wasn't really in the mood for a black eye this early in the morning, especially from someone I was on relatively good terms with.

I slid open the door, and sure enough, I was greeted with the sight of Kawasaki working quietly in the middle of room, fiddling with some streamers and markers. She had headphones plugged inside of her ears, and still hadn't noticed me walk into the room. The thought of scaring her again crossed my mind, but just as before, I squelched the idea.

Before I could move any further, her eyes suddenly became aware of my presence, and she faced me with surprise. So much for stealth, I suppose. She probably hadn't been expecting any company, let alone me. A part of me hoped that she wasn't too disappointed.

Tentatively, I made to address her. "Uh, hey."

If she was at all concerned with my sudden entry, she wasn't keen on showing it. "Hey. Good morning, Hikigaya."

Her response had been pedestrian enough, and so I took that as a sign that I was welcome. Slowly, I made my way over towards a free seat a comfortable distance away from the blue-haired girl, plopping myself down. Kawasaki turned her attention back towards the streamers she'd been decorating.

The crafts room was everything you'd expect from a room called the crafts room. Multiple drawers filled with to the brim with coloring utensils aligned themselves along the walls of the room, each drawer sporting a different bright color. A few abandoned canvases stood proudly near the back of the room, alongside a plethora of paintbrushes and color pallets that littered the marble floor. A plastic skeleton's head covered in paint marks and a lazily drawn on mustache enjoyed its faux decease silently, next to an overflowing trash bin near the emergency exit.

Already bored with looking at the room (why had I decided to leave my bag and phone in the classroom?), my eyes unconsciously drew themselves towards Kawasaki. She'd already graduated from streamers, and was now focusing on coloring a large poster adorning practically every color in the rainbow. After angling myself to get a better look, I was able to make out the words on the large graphic— "Formal Ballroom Dance in Class 2-F! Come well-dressed and ready to be blown away during the Cultural Festival!"

In all honesty, the design was rather decent. Were I a normal individual of society, I would have probably been inclined to believe that it was the perfect poster for the cultural festival. Being that I wasn't a mindless sheep, while also acknowledging that perfection didn't exist in any plane of reality, I resorted to quietly staring admirably at Kawasaki's work.

Kawasaki, coincidentally, had apparently caught my staring, and a somewhat sheepish grin made an appearance on her face. "Yeah, yeah. Cheesy, I know. But as long as it gets attention, it shouldn't be much of a problem, right?"

"Have you always been like this?" I inquired, a bit randomly. Judging by the girl's confusion, I made to clarify. "Artsy, I mean."

She leaned back, placing the markers in her grasp on the table. "Originally, no. Arts and crafts were never really my thing back in the day— I was always running around, flinging mud at other kids, getting into fights, the usual." She chuckled dryly. "Girly stuff like that was just never all that appealing to me. It still kind of isn't, even today."

Her eyes then seemed to temporarily gloss over, as if she were reminiscing on a time long ago. "Though, I can't say that I wasn't jealous. All the other girls could make such creative, pretty drawings, and color them in so neatly— I could hardly draw a straight line. My drawings weren't ever praised by my teacher, and more often than not they were laughed at. I already hated my classmates, but seeing them mock something I put actual effort into made me want to bash their heads in even more."

I noticed her hands subconsciously clench, and her eyes narrow the tiniest bit. In that moment, she looked like the girl she'd been when I had first met her— standoffish, untrusting, and angry. Before I even thought of consoling her, however, she reverted back to the present, releasing the tension that had been building within herself.

"But, it's whatever." She conceded, a rare sight for someone like her. "Why pay attention to anything that brings you down? Just ignore it and move on. It can't hurt you if you don't care about it."

It very clearly wasn't "whatever". She obviously didn't sound very enthused to have to revisit that particular chapter of her life, especially considering that it served to remind her of what she was like when she was younger. Not a lot of people enjoying talking about the bad parts of their childhood, so I honestly couldn't blame her for it. My past wasn't exactly rainbows and gumdrops either.

Though, it was a bit surprising to hear that little portion of her past from her. I certainly didn't peg the girl to be the sentimental type. Then again, I didn't peg her to be any type that wasn't "delinquent" up until a few weeks ago. Funny how things turn out.

Kawasaki, apparently remembering the gravity of what she was saying to me, tried to backtrack. "Oh, um... I'm sorry. For that."

"For what?"

She became increasingly flustered. "For, you know... telling you all of that. I'm sure you have better things to do than to listen to my life's story."

Shrugging, I replied. "Not really. I never really listen to a lot of things anyways. You're one of the few people I'm okay with giving my attention to."

"Huh?" She looked a bit surprised. "Aren't you in a club where the only thing you _have_ to do is listen to other people?"

"There's a big difference between listening to other people, and _understanding_ other people." I decided to enlighten her. I figured it was about time I shared some of my teachings with the girl across from me. I'm sure she was the only one willing to take what I had to say to heart, anyways.

"Wow..." Kawasaki's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "That's actually... not totally useless information." Of course it isn't. Do you think someone as great as I would dawdle in the learnings of trivial, needless concepts and ideas? You disappoint me, my dear pupil.

"So, what's the difference?" Kawasaki was apparently intrigued. "Between listening and understanding."

"Well..." I took a moment to think. No one had really asked me that kind of question before. "... you can listen to pretty much anybody. Your parents, teachers, friends, even your pets. They say something to you, you comprehend it, formulate a response, and vice versa. So as long as they say something to you, and you say something back that is somewhat related to what the theme of discussion was, that can be labeled as listening." Kawasaki nodded attentively.

I paused briefly. "But... understanding someone goes beyond just comprehending words and sentences. If that makes any sense."

"How so?" The girl across from me inquired.

"Well... put it like this. Say a teacher you kind-of-don't-like is rambling on about something you don't really care about. They talk, and you listen, jotting down a few notes as they continue, but nothing more. Just getting down the basic summary of what they're trying to convey. You hear what your teacher is saying, and you're comprehending the main basis of the lesson, and that's it. There's no effort put forth into going into the finer details of what he or she might be trying to teach you."

"And that's... just listening?" Kawasaki inferred.

"Bingo." I affirmed, before continuing. "Understanding someone goes beyond that. Let's say a close friend of yours just experienced a super painful breakup. He or she has tears in their eyes, their voice is hitched and weak, but they say that they're fine. That everything is okay. Would you be inclined to believe them?"

An immediate shake of the head. "Of course not."

I was glad that Kawasaki was catching on quickly. "Therein lies the basis of understanding one another. Anyone who was simply listening to that person would shrug it off and believe them— because listening is based off of words, and words alone. If you understood that person on an emotional level, you would know that they obviously weren't okay. You could make an assumption about their wellbeing from their facial expression, tone of voice, mannerisms, etcetera. Understanding is more intricate than simply listening— it's about looking underneath the underneath, and basing a response on whatever you find."

I leaned back in my chair. My throat was a little dry from all the talking. "Of course, understanding goes past just looking at someone and examining them. If you yourself had experienced a breakup, you could go back and reflect on how you looked and acted, compare that with how your friend currently is, and make a judgement off of that as well. You could also try just engaging in some simple conversation— just to get a feel for how the other person is feeling. There's more than one way to go about understanding a person, and there's no definite 'right way' either. It's simply based on you and the other person. Make sense?"

Kawasaki had brought a hand to her chin, and looked to be in deep contemplation. Was what I said really that profound? Maybe if the ojou-sama thing didn't work out, I could try my hand at public speaking. That was a growing industry, right?

"I think I get it..." The azure-haired girl finally murmured, mostly to herself. "So, by your standards, understanding is bred through... friendship?"

"Ugh, don't say it like that," I blanched, cringing internally. "You make it sound like something from a third-rate shounen mang— damn it, I already made that comparison!"

While Kawasaki looked partially bewildered by my sudden outburst, I made to clarify. "Though, by technical means, yes. Understanding primarily comes from... frie... friendsh... friend... the F-word."

The girl frowned. "You really do hate all things positive, don't you?"

"You're just figuring that out? Do you _know_ who I _am?"_

She ignored my jab and kept going. "So, you only _listen_ to the people who request help in the Service Club?"

"Precisely."

"Why?"

"Understanding requires effort," I replied casually. "And frankly, I have better things to do than invest myself in petty love quartets and Christmas parties."

"Like what?" Kawasaki scoffed. "Reading that perverted light novel you always carry around with you?"

"How does everybody in school know about that?!"

Her stoic face remained intact as she continued to barrage me. "You're not even going to deny the fact that it's utterly and entirely perverted?"

"..."

"..."

"... it's not perverted."

"It's too late to defend yourself now, you dumbass!"

I quickly tried to change course. This was just getting embarrassing. "I-In any case, nothing you say will make me care about whatever the people who come to the club have to say. It's worked for me thus far, there's no point in changing anything."

Kawasaki sighed, half in resignation, half in agreement. "Yeah... I guess you're right. Even I have to admit, some of the requests I've heard you receive are more than a little ridiculous."

"Right?" Finally! Someone agreed with me! I never thought I'd live to see the day!

"Though... that better exclude my requests." Kawasaki crossed her arms in a dignified manner. "I'm sure you understand that my predicaments are far more serious than anything else your club has handled."

She was kind of wrong, but I decided to roll with it. "Uh.. yeah. Definitely. One-hundred percent."

Her eyes narrowed, and her tone turned icy. "Don't tell me that you haven't treating my situation with _extreme_ caution."

"Of course I am," I replied in as calm a manner as I could manner. "You... were totally at the top of my priority list."

Though, it appeared that my attempt at consolation failed, and her demeanor only further worsened. _"Were?_ What are you trying to say? That I'm now _not_ something for you to worry about? That my situation is whatever? Do you even _care_ about what I have to go through?"

Now she was angry? But we just had a lengthy discussion over the secrecies and in-depth components of what separates the two primary forms of communication! I had given her my knowledge, and in turn, she'd given me her _emotional outbursts?_ This has been the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals, maybe ever.

"Look, Kawasaki... I never meant to—"

"Stop, stop," The girl interrupted me mid-sentence. I was confused slightly, and only more so when she, of all things, smiled playfully at me. "It's just a joke, Hikigaya. Relax. I'm not really mad."

I felt my eyes knit together. "You were... joking?"

"Uh... yeah." Kawasaki noticed my awkward expression, and her grin disappeared almost instantaneously, replaced by a look of equal nervousness. "Um... I'm sorry if it wasn't funny. I was just thinking... since you deal with girls getting mad at you over stupid stuff all the time... gosh, I really shouldn't have done—"

"No, no, it's fine," I decided to console her attempt a little. Partially to cancel out the secondhand embarrassment I was feeling. "I just... didn't really expect that from you."

"... really?" She almost sounded disappointed. "You don't expect jokes from me?"

I decided to be honest in this situation. No use lying to her. "Well... not particularly." I saw her face drop, and for whatever reason, I suddenly felt obligated to at least make my answer a little less rude. "But, I'm just surprised, is all. I didn't think that you were comfortable enough around me to share jokes."

"Of course I'm comfortable enough around you." She answered with little hesitation, surprising me further. She then seemed to notice the oddity in her response as well, and quickly tried to explain herself. "I-I mean... we work together, and we don't really have any beef with each other. Plus, you walk me home... and... you're a pretty nice guy, too..."

She trailed off on that last line, her eyes getting a little wistful. What was with this girl? She had been acting a little strange of late, but this was probably the strangest I'd seen her in... well, ever.

We fell into another awkward silence. We did that a lot nowadays. Desperately, I looked for something to help alleviate this uncomfortable situation, before I remembered the entire reason that I came here in the first place. "So... about your poster?"

That seemed to do the trick, as Kawasaki snapped out of whatever funk she was, and turned to me, poster in hand. She looked glad that I had changed the subject. "Oh yeah... actually, I was going to ask for your input on something. I was thinking about using these colors for the letters, but I tested some of the other colors and..."

We spent the next hour or so discussing possible edits to her designs, and put the finishing touches on any loose ends that we may have missed. By the time we had finished, the streamers were decorated and sorted neatly, all the posters were ready for printing, and the tablecloths had been cut and arranged to Kawasaki's liking.

We sat, partially exhausted, on the floor, taking sips of bottled waters that Kawasaki had thought to bring. I hadn't imagined that interior design and decoration could take so much out of you. The fact that Kawasaki had prepped most of this by herself was quite impressive in it's own right.

Taking another hearty swig of water, Kawasaki pushed some rebellious strands of hair from her face. "I think we're done."

I flexed my hand. It had gotten sore from having to color in all the streamers. "Okay then. What's next?"

To my surprise, the girl shook her head. "No, that's it. We're done. With everything."

My eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

It took me a few seconds to process that. "Wow... that's..."

"Yeah, I know," She seemed as surprised as I was. "I thought it would take me till at least the end of the week to finish all of this. This is only, like, my second day of doing this."

"Wow," I repeated. "Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?"

She smiled softly in my direction. "Yeah, I guess we do."

For whatever reason, I felt obligated to reward her for all the work that she did. While I didn't necessarily like working, I felt that working people weren't as rewarded and celebrated within society as they really should have been. They had to put up with a lot of crap from other people, and did it on a daily basis, with little to no recognition for it. As someone who knows quite a bit about the aforementioned crap people can force upon others, dealing with that kind of stuff is certainly no easy feat.

Personally, I felt that Kawasaki was the physical incarnation of the working class people. She worked, kept quiet about it, and went about her day in about as regular and average a fashion as one could manage to pull off. Sure, she had a bit of temper and flair to her personality, but considering everything she had dealt with, it was well warranted.

Slowly, I stood up. "Hey, Kawasaki."

The girl had just tossed her bottle in the trash can from about ten feet away. "What's up?"

"Wanna go grab a bite to eat?"

It was Kawasaki's turn to look perplexed. "... what?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. This was becoming increasingly more embarrassing the longer I thought about it. "I... well, I was just thinking... since you worked so hard on this, maybe you wouldn't mind me treating you to something?"

Kawasaki's face froze, as did my thoughts. "Um... You don't have to say yes, I was just wondering, is all."

"..." She was silent. Against my wishes, my mind started to drift to rather depressing thoughts. What if she was thinking of the nicest way to say no? I meant the request as something cordial and polite, but what if she took it as some kind of backwards confession? What if she was grossed out by something like that?

It was weird. Normally, I wouldn't have really minded creeping someone out. I had been doing that all my life, after all. But something about losing Kawasaki... irked me. I didn't really know why, but I felt super against losing her... companionship? Is that what we shared?

"You're..." She cleared her throat midway through her first word, snapping me from my thoughts. "You're aware that we'd technically be skipping, right?"

Well, that was a silly question. "We both know that we don't care about something as meaningless as attendance."

"Fair point," Kawasaki conceded. "Though, Hiratsuka will kill you if she finds about."

It was more like when, not if, she found out, but that was beside the point. "I've dealt with that woman for years. What's one more beating?"

I saw Kawasaki's facial expression relax more and more as we continued talking. "And you're absolutely sure that you wanna do this?"

Smirking, I replied. "We're finished. What else do you wanna do? Watch paint dry until school ends?"

We both laughed. I don't think it was really because my joke was in any way funny— rather, I think it was because we both felt so relaxed around each other, that even something as trivial and dumb as a bad joke helped to ease the atmosphere around us. A stark contrast from how it had been barely a minute ago. Such is the fickle nature of teenage emotions.

There weren't a lot of times that I felt calm and at peace with my surroundings, and when those times did occur, they were always within the vicinity of my own home. But for whatever reason, within the walls of this unnecessarily colorful room, surrounded by streamers and posters and other ecstatic and lively things, in the presence of this one girl I'd truly known for barely a few months, I felt as relaxed as I did when I was alone in bed.

Funny, how that worked.

It was apparent that Kawasaki had agreed with me. Wordlessly, she went to grab her bag, and washed her hands in the nearby sink, to wash away the lingering marker stains on her fingers. I made to do the same.

I decided to leave a note on one of the desks, in the off-chance that someone (namely Hiratsuka) happened to stumble in the room and find us missing. The note read that we had finished up the decorations, gone to grab some food, and that if anyone had any problems, they could take it up with our manager (Kawasaki had found that rather humorous. I felt it was justice, and that Oshino needed some kind of payback).

Just as we were about to leave, however, Kawasaki halted at the door. "Oh, hold on a second." She briskly walked back in the direction of the poster she had showed me, located a blank space on the front, and grabbed a black marker. Feeling my confused stare, she spoke. "We should leave our names on this. For credit."

I smirked again. "I didn't know someone as independent as yourself needed validation."

"Shut up, you know I don't," The girl grunted, scribbling her name with surprisingly neat penmanship. "But I'll be damned if I don't get recognized for putting effort into this thing." Maybe I was wrong about the working people not getting any recognition. They were people too, in the end.

I stood silently, watching Kawasaki write diligently on the poster. After a few brief seconds, she finished. Standing up, she moved away from the poster, retrieved her bag— and pointed the marker in my direction.

Confused, I didn't move. Kawasaki, giving me a curious glance, cocked her head at me. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you gonna write your name?"

That had thrown me for a loop, at least, initially. "Why should I?"

She looked at me as if I'd grown another head. "You worked on this too, didn't you? You deserve as much credit as I do."

"Hardly," I snorted. "You planned everything out. I just helped with some of the minor stuff. I shouldn't get credit for something you thought of."

"Nonsense," Kawasaki seemed adamant on disagreeing with me. "You helped with the streamers and the poster. There's no way I would have come remotely close to finishing today if you hadn't helped."

I didn't have a retort for that. But I still didn't feel like taking credit. Maybe it was having my name out there for people to see that made me uneasy. I don't know. "It's fine. I really don't need to be recognized or anything."

"Yeah, well _I_ want you to be recognized." Kawasaki spoke with a resolve that I couldn't quite describe. "Lord knows that too many people have taken advantage of you. It's about time people learn to respect you and your work."

I realized that there was no winning this argument. Something about her expression, and her eyes made it clear that she wasn't giving up any ground in this disagreement. Though, for the life of me, I couldn't understand why she was taking this so seriously.

Slowly, and reluctantly, I took the black marker from her outstretched hand. Lazily, I trudged over to the board, and as quickly and legibly as I could manage, I wrote down my name.

I turned to the girl. "There, happy?"

With a grin, the girl twirled in the direction of the door, taking a few bouncing steps as she approached the door, her azure hair following suit. "Yeah," she spoke, and then, in a lower voice, she continued.

"I'm very happy."

I stood, gently placing the marker next to the poster. With Kawasaki waiting patiently outside of the door, I followed her, taking one final look at the poster, before tailing her as we exited the school.

On the poster, our names were scribbled rather neatly. They weren't big enough as to draw any unnecessary attention, but not small enough to go unnoticed. They were the perfect size. But it wasn't the names themselves I still thought about as we walked— rather, it was the manner in which they were written.

Our names were written in close proximity, side by side. The beginning of my name was dangerously close to touching the end of hers. They had never been closer, ever.

And strangely, I was quite alright with that.

* * *

 _ **Hey. Been awhile, hasn't it? A happy Halloween, Merry Christmas, Happy New Years, Happy Valentines, and any other holiday greetings I may have missed.**_

 _ **Again, apologies for the lack of updates. I can offer a ton of somewhat plausible excuses, but I don't think I have the time to write them all down, so I think I'll just chalk it up to "Life's happenings". Hope you understand.**_

 _ **This chapter was originally supposed to include the actual festival, but the opening scenes took up so much space that I figured I'd just divide them in two. Otherwise, it would probably take another year before this chapter dropped. Also, I said that I would introduce a big character to the story in this chapter, but that has also been pushed back to Chapter 5. All the juicy shit is there, promise.**_

 _ **Big thanks for getting this story to 200+ Favs and Follows. I didn't think this dumb story of mine would get so much traction, but here we are. Again, I have no plans of abandoning this story, especially this far in, so I do hope you'll stick around for the end. I'm thinking about 4 or 5 more chapters of stuff, so stay tuned.**_

 _ **Thanks or being patient with me. I don't have a timetable as to when the next update will drop, so the only advice I can give you is to hit that Follow button and see what happens. And do leave a review, if you feel so obliged to do so. Just keep it constructive is all I'm asking.**_

 _ **My gratitude for your viewership, and I hope you have a swell day. Until next time.**_

 _ **~Slalem**_


	5. V

_**Despite his efforts, Hikigaya Hachiman cannot escape his heart.**_

Only when I take the time to look at myself do I truly realize how unattractive I really am.

Of course, that isn't to imply that I ever thought of myself as attractive in the first place. Quite the opposite, in fact. In all honesty, I just never really took the time to really see what it is about me that makes me so... me. The obvious surface stuff was there— the "rotten fish" eyes, my permanently-grim expression, etcetera, etcetra. Even my physique (or lack thereof) contributed somewhat to the non-stimulating conglomeration that was my existence. My lack of positive or "handsome" qualities was something I had accepted about myself long, long ago.

Still, that wasn't to say that I hadn't ever dabbled in the realm of the materialistic before. Back in my younger days, I frequently experimented with hairspray, combs and the like, in an attempt to exude some kind of positive image about myself in order to make some friends. I had tried really hard, in retrospect. Neat, sleek hair, a confident, purposeful stride— hell, I'd even convinced my mom to buy me a pair of those popular tennis shoes everyone seemed to be obsessed with back in the day. In all honesty, I could say that was the last time I had ever truly put an exuberant amount of effort into something, excluding club activities.

That venture had, predictably, blown up in my face. I managed to get a few admiring comments on the shoes, but that was practically it. I didn't magically manage to earn myself a bunch of new friends. Everyone still looked and treated me the same— that weird loner kid, except now he looks a little nicer and has the same shoes as we all do.

Those damn shoes. I had recently stumbled across them during one of my admittedly rare decisions to clean my room, stored in the farthest depths of my closet like a painful memory that didn't deserve to be revisited—which was pretty vindictive of what they represented to me. At least more so than they needed to be. I stared at them awhile, before promptly discarding them with the recyclables outside.

I have since removed the idea of making a concerted effort to keep up any kind of appearance. Nothing I could have possibly done might have changed that constant slouch in my posture, or that slimy aura I gave off, or that unnerving slant in my eyes. You can change who you are on the outside all you want, but that dark, unattractive inner-conscious you have stays with you, like a stain you can't remove. I had taught myself that, and Hayama, of all people, had done me the rare favor of reaffirming it for me on multiple occasions. Funny guy, that Hayama.

But, I digress. I don't have a problem with being ugly— in fact, I consider it part of some twisted, backwards kind of blessing. Were I some superficial, materialistic Chad with a God complex, there is little doubt that I would become another product of this unfathomably hyper-toxic society I have the immense misfortune of living in, thus never granting myself the chance to grow emotionally and develop rational thinking skills needed for life. No, that route would lead me to screwing the token Gal-girl in the bathroom during my closest dude-bro's house party (with free alcohol, of course), becoming a premature, unprepared parent in high school, and end up with me watching my life spiral out of my control in a vicious cycle that would eventually lead to suicide. That, or I would end up auditioning for that obnoxiously-stupid American TV show about those buff tan people with rich people problems that Komachi has a weird obsession with watching (what's that damn show called? New Jersey Shore?). Neither option seemed all that appealing to me— but again, I digress.

Plus, my revolting nature allowed there to be a chance— a small, one-in-one-million chance, but a chance nonetheless— of someone actually liking me for my personality, rather than my physical appearance. Yes, I am well aware of the fact that my personality is arguably worse than my actual appearance (depending on who you ask), but that doesn't seem to be a problem, at least, not in this day and age. I'm still holding out hope that my wealthy Ojou-sama with a considerably strong nihilist fetish is out there somewhere, desperately searching for me with true love in the heart buried within her preferably-38DD cup-sized chest. It is fate, I'm certain of it.

However, that day was still many, many moons from now. In the present day, I was camped out in front of a tall body-length mirror in Komachi's room, sitting obediently whilst my little sister dug around for some hairspray. The day of the festival had, unfortunately, arrived, and Komachi was making it a point that I look my best— for whom, though, I couldn't quite discern.

My attire was what I guess what one would call standard formal protocol. An all-black button down with equally dark slacks, dark brown shoes, and a belt to bring it all together. Over the button down was a scarlet vest I had seen my father wear from time to time (Komachi had been quick to assure me that I was allowed to wear it), adding a contrast to my subtle but sleek theme. It actually looked quite nice, for something I originally wasn't intent on wearing. Leave it to little sisters to make something look good.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a little silly. Aside from that one request to investigate Kawasaki's job, I hadn't had many other instances in wearing nice clothes. A few relatives' weddings here and there, a few of my parent's work parties, small stuff like that. This would be my first time wearing these kind of garments at a gathering outside of those two aforementioned venues— at a formal ball for school, no less. And if you remember my earlier spiel about parties, you typically know how those end. So yeah. Tough stuff.

Komachi returned with the hairspray— about as feminine a can of hairspray I had ever laid my eyes upon, fuchsia in color, with little yellow butterflies imprinted throughout the label. Forget what I said about little sisters making you look good. Some just want to watch their brother's world burn.

Komachi apparently sensed the negative vibe I was giving off, and made to reassure me. "Now, I know what you're thinking, but trust me, this stuff will do _wonders_ for your hair— one-hundred percent chick magnet, all the time, or your money back, guaranteed."

I gave her a questionable glance. "That's the goal for the day? For me to unleash my inner chick magnet?"

"Maybe not _exactly_ , but it wouldn't hurt, right?" She continued to tend to my hair, humming a cutesy tune as I remained silent and watched. I hadn't realized how skilled Komachi really was with cosmetics until I had actually watched her in action, and in my completely unbiased opinion, she was damn good at it. Yet another thing my little sister had a potential future in.

"So, how are you feeling?" Komachi prompted, putting what looked to be the finishing touches on my hair.

I thought about that for a while. "I don't really know," I admitted. "I'm not particularly nervous, per se, and I'm not going in thinking it'll be a once in a lifetime experience. It's just what it sounds like— a dance at the cultural festival. Nothing more, nothing less."

Komachi sighed, apparently displeased with my answer. "I don't even know why I bothered asking. I should've expected a boring answer from you."

"Wow, you know me so well."

"Unfortunately," Komachi resigned before shifting gears, spinning me around on her chair so that I could see myself fully in her mirror. "Whaddya think? Not too shabby, eh?"

My hair had been sleeked down, shifting over slightly to my right, falling in neat combs over my ears and forehead. It was an odd combination of messy and formal. Irregular enough to add flair and personality, but clean enough to make it look as if I put effort into it. My trademark ahoge still stood proudly atop my head, but disregarding that, I looked pretty different. I'm sure my classmates would get a kick out of this one. _"Woah Hikigaya, you actually look presentable for once!"_ Imbeciles.

Still, I had to give credit where it was due. Komachi looked to have at least put effort into this whole getup. "It looks good. Thanks."

"Anything for my big brother!"

Getting a few more looks in the mirror, I wondered what my clubmates would gather from my new temporary look. Not that I really cared much about what they thought of my physical appearance anyway, but it helped to garner constructive criticism every now and then. For future endeavors. Yeah.

There wasn't any doubt that Yukinoshita would pounce on the opportunity to berate how I looked, now that I had appeared to make a conscious effort into looking good. I could envision her demeaning comments already— _"My, Hikidumpster. To think that you of all people managed to pull off something presentable at a formal gathering. I suppose even a feral mutt can learn to behave if disciplined properly."_ — or something along those lines. Honestly, she was more predictable than she thought she was.

Maybe if I was lucky, I'd get a few positive words of faux-encouragement from my school acquaintances. Yuigahama maybe. Kawasaki would chime a good word or two in. Perhaps even Hayato, being the all-powerful shoujo-dreamboat that he was, would spare me an approving glance. That was fine— all I needed to do was make sure I didn't do anything dumb and everything would go down as bueno. Maybe I'd even be able to take Totsuka home as a prize or something. Who knows.

Still, despite my agenda of keeping a low-profile, I didn't _entirely_ intend to have a bad time. I may not particularly enjoy school festivals, but I'd be damned if I felt ostracized and left out of an event that I (technically) orchestrated and managed from the get-go. I'd get my food and punch, check out everything else the festival had to offer, be back in time for the toast, and dip on out. To some, that might sound unappealing and hardly entertaining, but to an experienced outcast like myself, time spent fulfilling your own needs while avoiding responsibility was time well spent indeed. You can quote me on that.

Sensing that my free makeover trial had ended, I retrieved my schoolbag and made to leave. I had to get to school early for a few last minute preparations, per Hiratsuka's order. That she-devil. "Well, I should be heading out now. Thanks for... helping me, I guess."

"Of course!" Just as I was about to step out, however, her voice stopped me. "Oh! Hold on a minute!"

I turned to see my sister digging vigorously through her own bag, searching desperately for something, mumbling to herself all the while. After a few lengthy seconds, she grinned triumphantly, and whipped out a tiny object I could barely make out— a small, dark hairpin.

I was equal parts curious and cautious. "What's that for?"

"It's for you, silly!" Komachi chimed eagerly. "It's just a little something I found. I thought it would look good on you! Compliments the outfit, and stuff!"

While I was initially hesitant, I found myself realizing how ridiculous I sounded. It's a damn hairpin. Nobody will even know it's there. Komachi hadn't been wrong with her attire choices so far, why doubt her intentions now?

I leaned down a little, and allowed her to snap the piece on the right side of my head, a few inches above my ear. Komachi adjusted the hairpin carefully, trying to get a few loose strands of Hachiman Hair contained underneath the device. After a few seconds, she drew away, admiring her work.

"I was right! You look rather dashing, if I do say so myself!" Komachi nodded to herself assuredly. "I'm sure that—"

"Yes, yes, you got plenty of Komachi points for that one," I interrupted her as politely as I could, granting her a headpat in condolence. "I gotta get going. Be safe on your way to school. No talking to strangers, boys, and especially strange boys. I'll probably be home later tonight, so I'll catch you later. Bye."

"Adios! Have fun! Tell Kawasaki I said hello!"

Mounting my trusty iron steed, I set my course towards the school building, trying to ignore the last line Komachi said as I was leaving. Damn kids and their secret agendas. As if I, the great loner Hachiman, would make an effort to talk to a girl at a party. Nothing would happen, I was certain of it.

At least, I hoped I was certain.

* * *

If you'd have shown me a before and after picture of my homeroom class during the festival, I'd have been hard pressed to believe that a bunch of high school students were capable of possessing such an affinity for décor and design.

Not that I really cared, of course. A classroom was still, at the end of the day, a classroom, regardless of how fancy it looked. No matter the number of elegant streamers, posters, tablecloths, and other elaborate decorations. That wasn't to undermine the work of the few who actually put effort into it (specifically Kawasaki, who had shouldered the bulk of the labor involved into creating the aforementioned decorations), it was just a fact. It's just a classroom.

Still, to someone who didn't know any better, it might have looked otherwise. Dimly lit for ambience, the room gave off a regal and upper-echelon-esque kind of feel, with more than a few expensive items adorning the scene. The color scheme had apparently been chosen to be darker, more inconspicuous colors (there was a lot of scarlet and purple, mixed in with a few deep blues), which was subtly highlighted by the candles lining the edges of the room.

How we, a simple high school class, could afford all of these rather pricey expenses? I couldn't say for sure— though I did have a hunch.

"I had to string a few calls to some... business associates of mine," Oshino admitted under his breath. He occupied one of the chairs in the corner of the room, staying within earshot as he continued. Joining him as we talked, I guessed that we looked pretty shady to any possible onlookers. "Of course, these kind of expenses aren't nearly as expensive as I presume you're thinking they are. I'm quite a bit of a haggler, you see. It also serves that I've helped with a few favors over the years."

"Favors?" I repeated questioningly. "Of what variety?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, I'm sure," My employer waved dismissively at me. "I'm just simply trying to provide some assistance to your festival. Think of it as thanks, for being such a well-behaved employee."

"This isn't coming out of my paycheck, right?"

"... we'll see. For now, enjoy the final preparations! I'll be out and about, should you need me. I haven't experienced a cultural festival in ages!" Oshino stalked off into the hallways shortly after, presumably with Tobe, if that all-too-familiar guffaw was any indicator. Damn moron.

So, that left me to my own devices, watching some of my classmates implement a few last-minute changes to the room. Contrary to what I was insinuating, there wasn't anything that needed to be adjusted or removed at all. Coming here early felt redundant, and outright stupid. I knew I should've slept in.

Unfortunately, my brief outpouring of negative energy drew the presence of similar beings towards me. This was a trait of mine I despised, but ultimately couldn't change. I just had a knack for attracting the most crude, abusive, and downright evil people towards my person.

Hiratsuka took the seat next to me that Oshino had been occupying previously. "Hey, fish-eyes."

"What do you want, you old hag?"

Half-expecting a right hook to the jaw (it wouldn't have surprised me— I've built a sort of immunity to it), I was pleasantly surprised when my teacher simply laughed at me. "So you really are that shitty of a person during all hours of the day? I can't believe Yukinoshita was right about that. Damn it, I owe her 100 yen."

"Again, what is it that you want, Hiratsuka?" I grunted irritably, the mention of the Ice Bitch only making my irritable fuse that much shorter. Who is she to place bets on my livelihood? I'm spitting in her tea next club meeting.

"Relax, I didn't come here to kick your ass," She chortled, though the smirk on her face implied she wasn't entirely against the idea. "I actually came to thank you."

April Fools already? I must really be bad with dates. "Don't mock me. I'm hardly in a mood for any kind of chastising you have for me."

This time, she actually did punch me. "Ow!" I hissed rather effeminately.

"You're a bona-fide dumbass, you know that? Not everyone falls for that far-off loner vibe you think you have going for yourself," Hiratsuka sighed, gently shaking her enclosed fist in what looked to be an effort to remove some Hiki-germs. "Has it ever occurred to you that some people— and hear me out on this— actually _appreciate_ the work you do for them?"

"Well, I can already tell you that you're wrong on account of the fact that I don't work. Have you already forgotten the fact that I have always hated the toxic concept of modern-day employment, and its despicable efforts to weasel away at the middle-classes' earnings by forcing them into decades of underpaid labor in hostile, unclean conditions, in addition to—"

"Save it. Your pal Mr. Oshino already spilled the beans about your job. Also told me that you have yet to miss a shift, or even show up late, for that matter. I'm proud of you! Internally, at least."

Damn Oshino. He might have just earned himself an entry on my To-Kill journal. Ice Bitch, looks like you have a new roommate.

"You're a better kid than you— and most anyone, for that matter— gives you credit for," Hiratsuka continued to serenade me with despicably kind compliments. "Keep up the good work. I'll be expecting halfway-decent things from you in the future!"

I gave my teacher the most malicious look I could muster. "Is that all you came to tell me?"

Feigning contemplation, Hiratsuka placed a slender finger upon her chin. "Hmm... while we _could_ discuss your abysmal grades, your lack of participation within your club, or even your sour attitude in general, I'll let you off the hook. Just this once. Call it a favorite student discount."

God, as much as I despised her, especially whenever she harped on my school life, I had to admit that she was hot when she acted coy. Seriously, if she were born even a few years later, we'd already be at the altar. Dead serious.

She got up to leave, grabbing her bag as she made for the door, much to my surprise. "You're leaving already?"

Giving me a look that screamed "duh?", she turned. "What makes you think that I would stay for something as ridiculous as hormonal kids dry-humping each other in public? Please, I have much better things to do. Like drink!"

I raised an eyebrow. Dry humping? What? "This is a cultural festival."

She smirked. "I know."

She slid the door shut on her way out rather ceremoniously, apparently forgetting that she was in the presence of more than just me. As the other students gave odd looks to the door, and then each other, I leaned back into my chair and attempted to catch a few more fleeting minutes of sleep, realizing my help was unneeded. No one noticed me as I placed a light novel upon my face for hiding.

If only a few years younger.

* * *

After my quick nap, I chose to meander through the halls in search of something lowkey to do. Since the festival was already well underway, I was free to do as I pleased, for the most part. The few requirements that were in place stated that I was to stay on campus, as well as to participate in my classes' "cultural showing", as they deemed it. Our little ballroom dance wouldn't be starting until much, much later though, so in present time, I had an inordinate amount of time to myself.

The festival had started a little less than a few hours ago, yet the school was already packed. Many of the classes had elected to start early so that they could finish well before the festival ended, see what the other classes had to offer, and get home before supper. It was practical on their part, but due to the amount of students that were bustling through the halls, it seemed that too many had thought of the idea. It would only get worse when more of the parents and student body trickled in, but I didn't want to think of that right now. Crowds made me sick, in more ways than one.

Thus far into the festival, I hadn't seen anything truly innovative from my fellow students. A movie showing here, a magic parlor there, among similar gimmicks. One class even had the balls to run a maid café. Though initially tempted by the outright hilarity and plain horniness of such a scheme, upon quickly remembering I was on the first floor— the floor for first years— I quickly turned tail and left. I was in no mood to be caught by one of acquaintances (especially a certain student council president) and catch a subsequent case. The last thing I needed was people thinking I actually _was_ a siscon-slash-pedophile.

So, as I usually did, I settled on keeping to myself. I had yet to stumble into any of my classmates or clubmates, and for the moment, I lounged leisurely in the cafeteria, slurping quietly on some udon from one of the food booths outside. It was serviceable. Nothing like Komachi's cooking. God, just the thought of home brought about a feeling of comfort and warmness that I missed dearly.

It was then brought to my own attention that I looked sorely out of place in the public eye. I was still adorned in my fancy getup for the ball, rather than the comfortable school rags I was far more accustomed to. I was itchy, uncomfortable, and most importantly, drawing attention. The most extravagant outfit I'd seen (excluding my own) was someone stuffed into a bear costume. I don't quite remember why that was a thing, but it reminded me of how silly I must have looked to folks passing by wearing a uniform that wasn't a maid costume.

If I wasn't careful, I'd start having people come try to talk to me. Trying to strike up asinine conversation as to why the weird kid was dressed nice. Trying to get clout off of picking on someone different than you? I thought we were better than this.

Though, I typically know how these sort of scenarios played out. Extravagance draws attention. Attention draws people. People would only draw more people. And if more people came, then that increased the likelihood of a certain someone—

"Well, well, well."

Perfect.

Yukinoshita plopped herself in the seat across from me as gracefully as she knew she could, her cold, calculating eyes never once leaving me. "What a surprise, seeing you here."

"I go to school here."

"Aha. Jokes aside, may I inquire as to why you're dressed like..." she conducted an obvious once over. "... that?"

I was started to think that Yukinoshita honestly believed that she was entitled to me. Maybe that's why she felt as though she could strike up conversation with me so freely? I certainly wouldn't put it past her. "My class is doing a formal dance for the cultural festival."

"I know that, you ignoramus." Were it not for the fact that she actually had the gall to say "ignoramus" out loud, I might have actually been mad at her for insulting my intelligence. "I was asking about your outfit specifically."

"You're asking the wrong person then," I shrugged, partaking in some more noodles. "Komachi's the one who assembled this. Mostly."

A look of slight realization and what looked to be relief dawned on the Ice Queen's face. "Ah... I suppose that makes sense."

"Of course it does," feeling particularly bold, and a little tired of being around people, I shooed her away with my free hand. "Now, scram. I'm eating in peace."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. I immediately regret my decision. " _Excuse me?_ "

Why the hell did I say that? That was profoundly stupid of me. A true ignoramus moment, perhaps. "I... uh..."

"You're awfully gutsy now, aren't you, Hikitrasha?" Yukinoshita slowly began to bore into me with freezing jabs at my livelihood. "I suppose when a filthy mutt gets groomed, it subsequently gains an irrational amount of confidence."

Despite the current state of danger I was in, I found it difficult to suppress a growing smirk. My prediction from earlier about her demeaning comments weren't all that far off. The mutt comments in particular were almost spot on. Maybe a career as an Oracle was worth a shot?

"Oh, you find this humorous now, Yuckigaya?" Eyeing my facial features, Yukinoshita didn't even give me a chance to breath. She was already aiming for the jugular. "I suppose we need to add 'masochist' to your growing list of titles. Among other things."

Deciding to humor her, I prompted her to keep going. Maybe I really was masochist. "Oh yeah? Care to read that list off to me?"

She didn't hesitate for even a second. "Fool. Simpleton. Ignoramus. Dunce. Cretin. Imbecile. Moron. Degenerate. Womanizer. Pervert. Deviant—"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," I waved my hand, urging her to stop. "I'm sorry for provoking you."

With a dignified harrumph, she relented. "As you should be."

I was partially surprised. Yukinoshita didn't let go of certain insults made at her, especially by me. She had made a habit of developing a rotation of recurring jabs against me, particularly in the throes of semi-heated arguments. The fact that she had ended the verbal battle so quickly had me suspicious, especially when she was obviously wiping the floor with me.

"Are you feeling okay?" I gestured to her in as friendly a manner as I could sustain in public. "You're not one to let me off the hook like that."

Instead of some snarky response, she sighed. "How very perceptive of you."

"I do my best," I shrugged.

"It's nothing particularly glaring," Yukinoshita continued after a brief silence. "To put it simply, my class is full of braindead idiots."

That was odd to hear from her. Insulting me was one thing. Insulting other people she likely had no close connection to, or particular beef with was another matter entirely. Since when did she get so hostile?

I threw her an educated guess. "Is your classes' idea stupid?"

"Very much so." She rubbed her temples with a fatigue I felt on a personal level. "Our classroom representative suggested that we operate a... well..." she trailed off inaudibly.

It was obvious that talking about it made her uncomfortable. It was, in all honesty, kind of distressing— seeing a rather attractive young lady squirming in her seat opposite from you, being forced to explain something she very obviously disagrees with. Perhaps, were she a little more forward, she might have been able to forego this event entirely.

However, that wasn't important right now. What she needed now was a shoulder to lean on. Someone she could confide in with trust. A good friend in this situation would pat her on the back, and as delicately as they could, try to reassure her and help put her worries behind her. It would be the _right_ thing to do.

Though, according to her own word, we aren't friends. Far from it, actually. And acting within my nature as the despicable and detestable earthworm she claims me to be, I chose to dig further. Much, _much_ further.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I answered with faux curiosity. "I'm afraid I can't hear you with all of this noise in the cafeteria."

She glowered at me. Considering that there were roughly twelve people in the cafeteria, all of whom were seated considerably far from us, she caught on to my ruse rather quickly.

Regardless, I found myself grinning devilishly— on the inside, at least. I couldn't give myself away that easily. The Ice Bitch's day had finally come, and what kind of person would I be if I were to let this chance pass me by?

"I mean, you don't _have_ to tell me," I gestured with an understanding air. "I wouldn't dare to make the princess of Sobu High flustered or shy. As a fellow clubmate and superior, it's my job to ensure your—"

"Cease your posturing. I'll tell you, if only you'll stop rambling as if you care." Her face conveyed that she wasn't too thrilled with what I was pulling. It was an image I would treasure for the rest of my life. "My class is doing a..." she had to force the words from her mouth. "... dine-in."

My disappointment was palpable. That was it? Seriously? If I were judging by how uncomfortable you were, I would guessed that you were running a strip club in your class. Not that I would encourage that or anything.

"What's so bad about a dine-in?" I wasn't against the decision, in all honesty, though I did question how a diner in any way related to Japanese culture.

"It's not the dine-in itself, moron," Yukinoshita made to clarify. "It's the theme we chose. I tried everything I could to sway my classmates, but they weren't budging on it. They decided to make the idea more bold than previous renditions."

"And that means...?"

Yukinoshita sighed. "Our theme is a speed-date dine-in."

Yikes. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her. No one should have to suffer through something as trite and ridiculous as speed dating, even if they're my mortal enemy. Though, I do know of some people that could benefit from that kind of frivolous nonsense in their love life. Maybe Hiratsuka shouldn't have left as early as she did.

"How does that even work?" I asked. After receiving another dirty look from her, I made to clarify. "I'm just curious. I have no intentions of going. I promise."

Apparently good enough of a reason, Yukinoshita made to elaborate, albeit reluctantly. "We set up desks in pairs of two around the room. Taking a select handful of students wishing to participate, we seat them and give them two or so minutes to converse with the person opposite of them. When time runs out, the students on the right side of each desk move over one spot to the next desk with a different student. This process is repeated five times, until the next batch of students are seated."

I nodded, somewhat attentive. It at least sounded like a functional idea. Horribly immoral, but functional nonetheless.

"And what's your role in all of this?"

"My role was to design and procure brochures and pamphlets for our class, so thankfully, my role has already been filled," she at the very least sounded relieved at that much. "Unfortunately, I am still required to be physically present for the actual demonstration, so it seems as though I'll be reading in the corner of the classroom for an hour or so."

I actually understood the idea of keeping Yukinoshita present for the showing, at least from a marketing standpoint. She was a valuable asset, and (as loathe as I was to admit such a thing) an attractive piece of eye candy for simpletons willing to actually participate in such an affair. Her face alone could probably draw a good amount of people for her classes' showing.

Of course, I was keenly aware of how much of an actual demon that Yukinoshita was, thus I was immune to her multitude of tricks. To this day, I was baffled by the sheer amount of people that were obsessed with this conniving woman. What kind of fetish does she represent for you degenerates?

"And how does the dine-in aspect work into all of this?"

Even she didn't seem to have a solid answer for that question. "Someone in my class can apparently make cheap snacks on the fly. We're supposed to give those out before we seat our 'guests'. Their justification for this idea is that the student's Dad was apparently a guest on a cooking show in the late 90's."

I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. "Seriously?"

Yukinoshita seemed just as irritated. "Quite serious."

For as much as I ragged about how dumb of an idea my classes' idea was, the sheer idiocy of Yukinoshita's class had blown my own's out of the water. At the very least, my class had a good idea that had effort put into it. Conducting a public orgy and throwing in low quality "snacks" to justify the concept was downright embarrassing. The fact that Yukinoshita's class is full of minds that are supposed to be on par with her own— which is apparently equivalent to that of a college student's— and still managed to concoct this scheme is almost criminal. How are smart kids that dumb?

Still, I had to relax a little. Despite all the commentary I had made on her predicament, Yukinoshita's dumb festival idea wasn't any skin off of my back. I could only fake being sympathetic and caring for so long. This story is about me, after all.

"Wow, that's terribly unfortunate of you," checking the watch we both realized I didn't have, I made to leave. "Well, it's been a pleasure, but I really must be going."

She cocked an eyebrow. "And just where are you needed so urgently?"

"My classroom," I lied on the spot. "Last minute preparations and such."

Though she seemed to know I was lying, as she had in times past, she didn't seem to have a concrete reason to keep me any longer than she already had. "Very well then. Good luck with your disgusting festival."

I scoffed audibly. "You're one to talk."

She allowed herself a small smile. "Touché."

Seeing as that was as nice a farewell I would receive, I parted with a small wave. She shot me that miniscule smile she always had whenever we greeted or adjourned ourselves from the others' presence. It was an unwritten understanding between us, our own dynamic— that despite the harsh words we would sling at one another, we still found it within us to care for each other.

Were we friends? I didn't know if I could answer that. Perhaps she couldn't, either. Observation from a third party hadn't yielded us an answer, and I doubted it ever would. We were two complex beings, with complex minds and complex ideologies to match. We were made to oppose each other, in the worst and best of ways. The fact that an odd sort of kinship came of that fact, rather than burning animosity, was just dumb luck.

Perhaps in another life, reality, or whatever multiverse theory you believe in, things could have been different between us. Such an idea scared the wits out of me, so I preferred not to linger on such a concept. But the mere thought of upsetting the balance we both had so carefully constructed within our dynamic seemed against our own natures as complex creatures of logic. And while I never thought in depth about it, the obvious potential for something more had always been there. I had just ignored it, as did she.

But in the end, it was just that. Potential. And as all untapped potential did, it would stagnate, before eventually withering away into the vast abyss that was the nothingness of human emotion and retrospect. Such was the cycle that would come to pass for monsters of logic such as myself.

I traveled upwards through the staircase, with no obvious destination in mind. Even despite my inner preachings, I allowed my own thoughts to linger within my conscience. This is a problem with reserving everything within the limits of your own being— the many abstract ideas and conceptualizations you may have fester and manifest into a maelstrom of personal torment. One is forced to realize the repercussions and consequences of their actions almost constantly, and for those such as myself, those actions stick with you and interject themselves into your rationale near always.

But I'm making it sound more poetic than it really is. In reality, it's simply facing the truth of responsibility that comes with growing up. I make decisions that affect me personally, and as such, I live with the choices I make. Everyone does it— I just choose to dwell on them longer than most people. Thinking about the near innumerable "what-ifs" concerning Yukinoshita only reaffirms my character, and reminds me that I'm _me._

I said it myself before I started my little odyssey with Kawasaki, didn't I? "My ability to think for myself is my gift from God." Despite my false bravado, my decisions lately have me questioning whether God's gift might have been more of a curse.

I reached the top step of the flight of stairs, and lost in thought, I tripped over myself and fell unceremoniously on the solid marble. Despite the obvious pain I felt, the barely audible snickering to my left hurt more.

Regardless of how much I question my past decisions, I should have never made the decision to come to this damn cultural festival in the first place.

* * *

Alas, my procrastination and leisure could only save me for so long.

I made every effort to reject my duties, of course. There were more than a few instances where I felt it appropriate to leave school grounds and journey home. The more I lingered within the damnable halls of this accursed school, the more I felt my sanity and desire to participate escape me— not to imply that there was an abundance of desire within me to begin with.

The one positive was that I was able to avoid contact with most all of my other acquaintances once I escaped from Yukinoshita's clutches. Though, that seemed more akin to something of a convenience, and as I slowly waltzed my way ever closer to my classroom, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

By some insane stroke of luck (or misfortune), our classroom had garnered a _massive_ crowd. The line outside of our class extended far throughout a majority of the hallway. First years and third years alike seemed to have flocked to our class for a chance to participate. Hell, most of them had dressed for the occasion too. Some of these dresses looked more appropriate at a royal coronation rather than a school dance.

To put it simply, I was dumbfounded. How did this get so popular so quickly? Kawasaki's advertisements were good, but certainly not professional and persuasive enough to attract this level of a mob. I had elucidated my doubts about high school students on multiple occasions, but were they _that_ depraved of excitement and fulfillment that they'd stoop themselves to going all out for a dance at a cultural festival? Was I— heavens forbid— not cynical _enough_ when considering the foolhardy nature of hormonal teenagers?

I continued to think as the decorated entrance of my classroom entered my peripheral. No, this whole thing reeked of foul play. There had to have been an outside force at play here. There just _had_ to be. It was the only plausible explanation. The only thing that made any of this madness feel practical.

Of course, upon reaching the entrance, Tobe, who for whatever reason was stationed directly outside the sliding doors in what looked to be his best bouncer impression, spotted me near instantly and slapped a hearty hand on my shoulder. I was quickly reminded that there was no practicality in madness.

"Hikitani! You made it, my man! Thought you might have bailed on us for a second!"

"Wouldn't dream of it... _man_ ," I spoke with as much gusto as I could muster, which meant none. Why was this idiot so compelled towards me? At the very least, his insufferability seemed to have been toned down for the occasion.

The pitiable dunce gave me an obvious look-over with what looked to be approval. "You look pretty good, Hikitani! A ton better than you normally do, at least!"

My eye twitched. Never mind, he was still insufferable.

Before I could even think of a possible retort, however, the door slid opened, revealed a well-manicured hand. A flash of blonde gave away the interjector's identity away instantly.

"Tobe! I thought we told you to clean the tabl— oh, Hikio," Miura seemed surprised to see me. Did she too forget that I attended this school? "You're here."

"Doesn't he look nice?" Tobe said, in what looked to be a weak (but surprisingly clever, at least for him) attempt to shirk off the job given to him by Miura. Were Miura as dumb as he thought she was, perhaps it might have worked.

"We told you to clean the tables half an hour ago. The table you ate your lunch at still has bits of salad dressing on it. Are you _trying_ to make us look bad?"

Grinning nervously now, Tobe succumbed to the lioness' will— say what you will about her personality, but Miura knew how to get what she wanted. "Ah... haha! Yeah, I'll get on that! Just wanted to have a little chat with Hikigaya!

Angling around the popular girl sheepishly, Tobe left, taking with him that irredeemably stupid and crass personality with hi—

Wait.

He got my name right.

He said it perfectly. Without any hint of mispronunciation or stuttering. It was so casual and fleeting that I almost missed it. What the hell? Has he always known my name? Why does he even bother calling me Hikitani if he knows my actual name?

Has Tobe been toying with me all this time, and made _me_ out to be the fool instead?

Suddenly, I was pissed. Enraged. Infuriated. Whatever other adjective you could use to describe how livid I was. Very rarely was I made a fool out of— Yukinoshita and Hiratsuka were the only two to ever achieve such a feat. Those two had an unfair advantage over me, however; they were women, and thus had a leg up on me in terms of privelage and stature. I was doomed to be held at the whims of females since my conception, as all men were. So, in reality, no one _normal_ had ever made a fool out of me. Ever.

The very thought that Tobe— god damn _Tobe_ — had outsmarted me was enough to drive my rationale off a cliff.

I made to confront him. I stormed past Miura, who seemed to be motioning for me to come into the classroom anyways. "Let's get you inside, Hikio. People will think that we've opened if you keep— hey, where are you going?"

I didn't hear the rest of what she had to say. I was so focused on Tobe right now (just _thinking_ that sentence sounded unnatural in my head) that I couldn't think straight. Yes, it was stupid, and petty, and pretty silly of me to get so worked up over what he did and didn't call me, but could you blame me? I had been at this school for nearly the entire day, I was at my wit's end. I was sick of everyone here, and frankly, I wanted to go home. It was obvious that I wasn't thinking straight.

Fortunately, clarity returned when I saw a long silver ponytail.

She was stunning. In every sense of the word. It was odd to hear myself think that, but in those few instances, I seriously couldn't think of anything else to describe her. Her ponytail was the same as it always was— in that it was long— but it looked different. It was a tad lower on her head than it normally was, and was substantially sleeker, and straighter. I was tempted to call it shinier, but I felt that would have been _too_ weird.

Strangely enough, I wasn't all that focused on her actual wardrobe— a beautifully modest navy dress that fluttered daintily over her partially exposed shoulders and ended a few inches below her kneecaps— but rather, my eyes were drawn to the expression she held. She stood apart from everyone else, independent as she ever was, but rather than the disinterested scowl she normally wore, she seemed at peace. Comfortable, despite all the chaos surrounding her. She looked, dare I say it, content.

Oddly enough, a feeling I would later deduce as the faint, fleeting feeling of joy brushed its elusive fingers over my own heartstrings.

I could feel myself losing to these feelings of... something or other (Respect? Affection? Amity?), thus I made to quell my racing heart. I appealed to the more logical side of me I knew still existed. At the end of the day, under all that glamour and serenity that seemed to surround her like the very air she breathed, she was still Kawasaki Saki. Sobu High's biggest delinquent girl. An Ice Queen well within her own right. No amount of hairstyling or perfume or perfectly-applied-but-wonderfully-subtle makeup could change that fact.

It didn't matter that we'd gotten closer over the past few months. Or that she was actually a really sweet and hardworking girl under that rebellious exterior she gave off. Kawasaki Saki was still the same girl she'd always been.

Right?

Then, like moths to a flame, her eyes found and latched onto my own. Time seemed to stop. She looked as surprised as I assumed I looked, judging by the way her lips parted ever so slightly. I felt that uneasy but warm feeling I felt on so many occasions return in a flash, though unlike the times before, I had neither the will nor the way to fight it. She took a subtle step back in her heels, and in a moment that felt privy to only the two of us, we gazed upon each other, sealed within a silent flurry of intimacy and unexplored emotions.

For the first time in a long time, I, Hikigaya Hachiman, Monster of Logic, didn't know what to do.

Tobe sensed this, and in true Tobe fashion, used his mouth before his brain.

"Hey Hikitani, your girlfriend looks pretty good, too!"

* * *

 _ **Bold of you to assume I had given up on this story. What sort of simpleton do you take me for?**_

 _ **Yes, I'm aware of how long this chapter took. I actually had the outline for this finished way earlier (around March/April), but the actual writing process was just a pain. Life also didn't want to just leave me alone.**_

 _ **There was also an instance in which I lost the entirety of my data and notes for this story, but I won't get into that.**_

 _ **It has come to my attention that this story has, by some stroke of luck, hit 3k+ favs and follows. What's wrong with you all? Why do you love this garbage? There are stories within this community that feature Hachiman fighting cancer, stopping crime, and getting laid by Yanderes, and you chose to read a story where Hachiman tries to bone a character with less than 24 minutes of combined screentime? Do you have nothing better to do?**_

 _ **But in all seriousness, thanks. You make the months (yes, months) of planning and writing this silly story of mine worth it. Your support means the world to me, and seeing so many people favorite and follow the story literally months since the last update makes all of this feel worthwhile. Seriously, you guys rock.**_

 _ **The next update will be... sometime. I'll likely finish the outline in a few days, and after that, who knows where the actual writing process will take me. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?**_

 _ **If you're new (or old), don't forget to Fav, Follow, Review, all that jazz. At this point, it doesn't make the process any faster, but it makes me feel good. Unless you talk shit, in which case, it makes me feel bad.**_

 _ **I'll see you all again soon.**_

 _ **~Slalem**_


	6. VI

_**And so, the Monster sheds his Namesake.**_

Before I had even a chance to reply, a shrill voice called before me.

"Tobe!" The cry sounded familiar. Yuigahama, adorned in a preppy little pink dress perhaps a few too many centimeters down her bosom, stomped over to the offender. She looked a bit winded, if the red on her cheeks were any indication. "What are you doing?!"

The buffoon frowned. "I'm enjoying the party! Didn't I already do everything that I needed to do?"

Yuigahama's cheeks puffed even more, if that was possible. "That's not what I— oh, never mind!" She then quickly turned in Kawasaki's direction, apparently forgetting altogether that I was also present. "I'm sorry about that! Tobe's just being dumb!" Shooting one last disapproving glance at Tobe (her best attempt at one, at least), Yuigahama stormed back to wherever she popped out of, leaving the idiot in question to resume in partaking of the punch he'd been downing beforehand.

Thus, that left me alone once again, still directly in the line of sight of the girl I'd been shamelessly gawking at for around a minute. Considering the nature of what Tobe had blurted out, I was still feeling rather... flustered, let's call it. It didn't help that my natural defenses against this assault on my livelihood were ineffective in this environment— I couldn't sit down and mask my presence, considering that Kawasaki was still staring right at me, and I couldn't whip out my phone or a spare light novel to make myself look busy, considering I had forgone bringing either to school with me. In simple terms, I was pinned between a rock and a hard place.

During my despair-filled monologue, Kawasaki had actually taken the liberty of approaching me instead. Though she was certainly taller in heels, she still barely reached to beneath my forehead. "Hachiman?"

Still reeling slightly, I nearly jumped after seeing her so close to me. That girl was deceptively quick. "Uh... hello."

She smelt nice. Like a fresh breeze on a cool autumn—

"So, uh, what brings you here?" I blurted out of desperation. I couldn't even trust my own thoughts anymore.

Predictably, Kawasaki gave me a confused look. "I go to school here."

The hole I was digging myself into became deeper. "Oh."

Her eyes narrowed, whether in irritation or concern I didn't know. "Hachiman, are you feeling okay? You didn't eat or drink anything weird, did you?"

Kawasaki's finer details gleamed my eye as she neared me further. Her lips were full and pale, though they were currently morphed into a frown. Soft amounts of foundation and blush adorned her cheeks—a rare sighting, as Kawasaki normally went against the idea of makeup. I would have guessed that she was wearing eyeliner, but that would have maybe appeared to have looked like I was staring too pointedly at her.

It broached my mind that she had asked me a question. "I'm alright. Still a little tired, I guess."

She folded her arms. I tried to remove the image of her bust shifting upwards as she did so. "Why's that? Were you doing something you weren't supposed to?"

Before I had even a chance of defending myself against any insinuations on her part, Miura's commanding voice called from across the room. "Hikio! Do you know how to set a table?"

My few months of work at the Angel Ladder came to mind. "Yeah. Who's asking?"

"I am. Tobe doesn't know how to do it. Would you mind showing him while I make sure the lights and music work? Thanks."

While she strode off, I silently thanked her for her intrusion into my own little predicament. I turned to Kawasaki to apologize. "Sorry, I need to go help him. I'll catch you later."

I made to leave, though I was keen on noticing the questionable glance Kawasaki was giving me. Her eyes were trained onto me, with a gaze that betrayed the stoic demeanor she was attempting to convey. It was different, but I shouldn't have really been surprised. Given how much she had already deviated from her normal look, I supposed that a few odd glances here and there weren't really out of the ordinary.

With a small nod and a dignified "okay", she made to travel in the opposite direction, as we both turned and went our separate ways. A lingering part of me wished I had answered her question. I at least owed it to her for being concerned about me.

"Hikitani! Why do we need two forks for every seat? Isn't that, like, repundant or whatever that word is?"

Sighing, I trudged my way towards Tobe.

* * *

The party did eventually start, and despite the looming line outside, it wasn't as crowded as I imagined it would have been. There was plenty of room to operate and move around in, and it wasn't particularly crowded in any certain portion of the room. Everybody was conversing and socializing, some had drinks and snacks in their hands as they chatted, and a few had even taken to dancing with their partners to classical music on the dancefloor. It seemed as though our idea was a hit with the rest of the student body.

Despite myself, I felt a small bit of pride well up within me. This was what Oshino must have felt at the Angel Ladder. Seeing something you put effort and care into turn out in a positive way imbues a sense of accomplishment in your craft. While one could argue that I didn't put that much effort into the project in the grand scheme of things (I certainly wouldn't dispute that point), it still stood to reason that I was proud of the end result. We made something that people enjoyed, and that was enough for me.

Though, I myself wasn't all that enthused. I was still hopelessly bored and tired. I was in the beginning stages of an escape plot when the familiar scent of raspberry slid into the seat on my right.

"Yahallo, Hikki!" Yuigahama greeted with enthusiasm I couldn't hope to muster. Noticing the rather aimless look on my face, she made to comment. "What's got you feeling blue?"

"Nothing's got me feeling blue. I'm feeling rather navy-ish, if we're talking exact metrics."

"How'd I know you were gonna say something like that," Yuigahama sighed. "Why don't you go chat with someone? Everyone's having a lot of fun!"

I gave the girl an obvious look. "I'm already chatting with you, aren't I? That should count as more than enough."

Despite the sudden flushing of her face, Yuigahama pressed on. "Y-You know what I mean. You helped orchestrate this whole thing, you deserve to go let loose for a bit!"

"I'd rather not. I'm rather content with sitting in this chair and spectating. In a way, you could say this is my own version of 'letting loose'."

Yuigahama looked exasperated. It was a look that I would admit did not suit her. "Would it kill you to at least _try_ to have some fun?"

"Would it kill you to find another dress?" I shielded my eyes from the sparkles and glitter I now noticed were adorned over every inch of her dress. "I'll go blind if I stay in your vicinity for the next half hour."

My classmate's face turned red. "Hey! My mom bought me this dress!"

"Yuigamama doesn't seem to have as good of a fashion sense as her daughter does, then." I let out a smirk. I had rendered the pinkette incapable of coherent speech, at least temporarily. If teasing the poor girl was a sport, I'd be All-World.

"Oh yeah? W-Well you look...!" Yuigahama struggled to find words. "You look like... um..."

"I suggest you pick your next words carefully. The fit's Komachi's doing, not mine."

My clubmate froze, and made to backtrack. "Oh! Well then, um... you look really nice! Yeah, thumbs up for you, Hikki!"

I suppressed the urge to laugh maliciously. "Oh? Are you implying that if I had chosen my own ensemble, you would have still made fun of me? That's rather discriminatory, Yuigahama."

"I don't know what that means and you know it!"

Deep down, I was cackling. Like I said, All-World. Offhandedly, I wondered if this was what it must have felt like to be Yukinoshita. I'll admit, the power's kind of getting to me a bit.

We sat silently for a moment, the two of us. Such an occasion was rather rare, since Yuigahama always had something to talk to me about. Not that I would ever listen all that attentively, but it was still somewhat nice to have someone willing to divulge their problems to you. She and Komachi were very much alike in that regard.

Yuigahama was not a quiet creature by design, though. When she wasn't speaking, it was normally due to something weighing heavily on her mind, or that she was too flustered to say anything. I had a hard time labeling which instance was occurring during this specific example.

I saw her sneaking glances at me none too discreetly, and decided to break the ice. "What's on your mind?" Naturally, her first instinct was to act defensive around me. We may have been acquaintances for some time now, but simple cordiality doesn't override the intrusive nature my basic existence projects onto others.

"Nothing..." Yuigahama said, forcing a smile and reserved laughter. She seemed surprisingly unsure of herself.

"If you don't wanna tell me, that's fine," I shrugged. If she wanted to dance around whatever it was that was bothering her, she would receive no qualms from me. I'm not one to intrude on things that don't concern me. Most of the time.

It was her turn to sigh. Again, exasperated and defeated is not a look that suits her. "No, it's fine... I mean, I guess I owe it to you, with your request and all..."

I felt myself burn up a little. My little outburst wasn't something I liked to reflect on often. Exposing how weak and fragile I was to other people for the sake of my one desire... I clutched my pant legs a tad bit tighter.

"I've come to realize that... we won't be around much longer." Yuigahama began, a somber tone etched into her words.

"I never took you for a nihilist," I attempted to joke with her, though I knew she had a low chance of knowing what that even was. Predictably, Yuigahama shot me a pouty look. "I'm being serious here, Hikki!"

She pressed on. "I mean, we're already pretty deep into the year... it seems like a while, but it won't be long until we graduate and stuff..."

"Does that worry you?" I asked purely out of courtesy, though I was rather certain that I already knew what her answer would be.

Yuigahama's eyes sank even lower. "I don't really know. One part of me is glad that we're all taking the next step in our lives, but a part of me wishes that we could have a little more time to simply have fun, you know?"

Honestly, I didn't. There were many words I could use to describe my time in high school, but "fun" wasn't anywhere in the ballpark of my imagination. I remembered coming into high school secretly hoping that it would be the sort of turning point I thought I needed in my life— I would shed my status as a loner and grow into the charismatic social butterfly I knew was buried deep within my conscious for years. Of course, that didn't happen, and I was left with what has thus far been a series of misfortunate social trainwrecks that seemingly come and go, slowly destroying my life at their leisure.

Outlandish. Bizarre. Melodramatic. Those were the kind of words that came to mind when I thought of my high school tenure. Even someone as enthusiastic and air-headed as Yuigahama would have trouble spinning my last couple of years into an experience one would deem as fun.

But still, this was Yuigahama I was talking about. I'm sure that life for her has become a whirlwind since she joined the Service Club, though she's undoubtedly taken it much better than I have. Who am I to trample on how she feels about her time in high school? In the end, it's an experience that both of us will look back on and ponder on regularly. For different reasons, admittedly.

"I guess," I answered with a boorish sigh. When in doubt, shrug it out, as I sometimes say. Life's too short to spend it worrying about insignificant hypotheticals— which is ironic, coming from me.

"Don't be like that, Hikki," Yuigahama saw right through my charade. I keep forgetting that she isn't as stupid as I make her out to be. "Even if you won't admit it, you've made plenty of fun memories."

"Oh yeah?" I cocked an eyebrow in her direction. Perhaps there was a way that she could spin the last few years for me into a fun experience. My curiosity was piqued. "Like what?"

Yuigahama thought, but not for long. "How about when the club made cookies?"

My stomach churned remorsefully. "Please don't remind me of that."

She thought a little harder. "Remember when we played that doubles tennis match? Against Yumiko and Hayato?"

I snorted impolitely. "I'm pretty sure we're the only ones who even remember that happening."

"Um..." Yuigahama looked lost. "... the field trip to Kyoto?"

"I think that's something you and I would both rather forget."

"You're making this really complicated!" Yuigahama attempted to chide me, before returning to her original train of thought. "Come on, think...!"

While it was rather entertaining to watch the girl despair about my own life, it was best that she didn't wrap herself in too much guilt over it. This was a party, after all. "Just give it up. It's okay to admit that my life isn't exciting."

"Hush! I'm not done yet!" Yuigahama looked ready to burst with contemplation, and in a small bout of insanity, suggested, "How about when we did that housewife training thing? You're a guy, you... you like that kind of stuff... right?"

Man, _that_ takes me back. I had almost completely forgotten about that whole marriage-test fiasco. Granted, the entire thing was pointless and only served as a means of seeing females in wedding gowns, but in retrospect, it wasn't all that bad. Points to Yuigahama for even remembering that.

Plus, it solidified my resolve for Shizuka. That hag deserved to be married, and if I was the only one willing and able for the job, then so be it.

"... okay, I'll grant you that," I spoke with an ounce of resignation in my tone, though I quickly continued once Yuigahama's pearly smile grew. "But still, that's only one instance. That's hardly enough of a sample size to claim that my entire high school life has been the prime of my adolescence."

"Any experience can define a lifetime," Yuigahama spoke sagely, closing her eyes and deepening her voice for effect. It was humorous, but the faint omnipotent vibe emanating from her was slightly concerning. Maybe she was more aware of things than I was willing to give credit for. Or maybe Yuigahama was simply God in the flesh. Neither seemed likely.

I got back on track. "Regardless, something as irrelevant and forgettable as housewife training would be pretty shameful to define one's time in high school with. Give me something _noteworthy,_ woman."

"Hm..." Yuigahama once again returned to a state of intense(?) contemplation. Call her what you like, but one couldn't deny how tenacious she was when she set her mind on something.

Her eyes then settled on me with an odd look. An uneasy feeling rose in my chest as she began to speak.

"What about the fireworks festival we went to together?"

The uneasy feeling swelled into a discomforting throbbing. I remembered the fireworks festival well. Too well, even. For Yuigahama to bring up the festival, along with what did and didn't transpire there had me more than a little shell-shocked. I suddenly wished I was still brooding by my lonesome, as I had been earlier.

Obviously, I couldn't return to that now. Yuigahama had her eyes locked onto my person, and fleeing now wouldn't be the most gentlemanly of gestures. Feeling cornered with precious little to say, I averted my eyes and nervously fiddled with my pant leg. Yuigahama, either painfully oblivious or dangerously perceptive, reverted to her previous state of innocence, eyes shining with renewed concern. "Hikki? Are you okay?"

"Uh," I replied intelligently, grasping for appropriate responses I couldn't come up with for the life of me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... still feeling a bit navy-ish."

Yuigahama frowned, be it due to my poor joke or something else. "Hikki..."

My more rational persona pleaded for me to escape while I still could. I had an immense disposal of practiced excuses I had stored away for this very situation. This formerly simple and unassuming conversation had warped into a painfully awkward and convoluted cesspool that I just didn't have the resolve to face right now. It took a great amount of effort to even keep a relaxed and composed look on my face.

Honestly, it was beginning to look as though all of my acquaintances were, in some form or another, determined to invalidate everything that I had assumed about them previously. I had never imagined that I would be stressing over anything concerning Yuigahama, of all people. I was well aware that there was more to people than what was at face-value, but this was getting ridiculous.

I eventually settled for the safest and most harmless possible answer. "It was fun... I guess."

My classmate's eyes lit up, before she shifted in her seat. Based on posture alone, it was very possible that she was just as uncomfortable as I was. "O-Oh... that's... I'm happy to hear that."

"No problem," I replied quickly, and we settled into a very-much-appreciated silence. For the time being, any possible crisis had been averted. I silently thanked any deity that had been listening to my silent prayers of help— it seemed as though the rom-com gods and their shenanigans had been staved off. For now, anyways.

"Hey, Hikki..." Yuigahama spoke again, and any semblance of relief went right out the window. I apparently wasn't out of the woods yet. "I just wanted to say... thanks."

That caught me off-guard. "Huh?"

"I-I mean... everyone gets on your case a lot... since you're not popular and all," Yuigahama stammered on, just barely above the level of a whisper. Considering the music filling the room, it was a tremendous undertaking just to hear her. "But, you still do a lot that goes unappreciated. Even by Yukino and I sometimes."

"You don't need to thank me," I quickly interjected. Though, I was inwardly very glad that the conversation had shifted into something a little more comfortable to discuss. "Nothing I do is really all that praiseworthy."

Yuigahama allowed a small, humorless laugh to escape. "There you go again, refusing to take credit. But I guess that's just like you."

"You know me so well," I agreed, but cautiously. Tightroping through this conversation was proving increasingly difficult. Not that it already wasn't before.

"But still," she continued, her voice beginning to raise ever so slightly. "Even you deserve something nice every once in a while. It isn't fair that everyone gets to be happy at your expense."

That word. _Fair._ I heard it tossed around a lot, specifically when it concerned other people. It wasn't fair that he or she got better grades than me. It wasn't fair that he or she liked him or her and not me. It wasn't fair that they got all the nice things the world had to offer, and left me with the scraps. People complain in such a manner believing the world to be an equal medium— a place where everyone has a chance to be anything. They believe that a divine being will swoop down to them and grant them the reprieve they've so desperately craved. Because it would make everything _fair_.

Of course, when people are faced with the reality that the world simply isn't in their favor, minds change and gears shift. Some rebel against a system they believe to have been rigged against them from the start, desperate for a change that benefits them. Others simply conform, and accept whatever life they can muster together under their realized circumstances. The particularly weak-willed ones... take the easy way out. Realizing the truth of the world's society is, in a way, a sign of maturity, and everyone varies in how they cope with it.

Back to me. Obviously, it isn't _fair_ that I'm not appreciated for what I do for the Service Club and others. Were status and estate based on merit and character, I'd be among the most prominent and wealthiest men of Japan— if one considered my own deeds for others, and not my actual personality. Instead, the most I get in terms of "appreciation" is a thanks from the parties involved, a congratulations from Hiratsuka, and reprimand from Yukinoshita and/or Yuigahama for any underhanded tactics I might have pulled.

I know that I sound really spiteful right now, but I'm not. Promise. I was already _well_ acquainted with how the world worked from a young age, and at this point in my life, any praise for what I do and don't do would just feel undeserved and forced. Sure, I do nice things for people sometimes, but that doesn't warrant anyone going out of their way to thank me for it. After all, thanks and congratulations don't pay taxes or put food on the table. They just make you feel good for awhile. Nothing more.

So yes, it isn't fair that I don't get appreciated. But do I seek out appreciation to begin with? No. I simply do what needs to be done, and promptly return to the manner in which I cope with the world's unjustness— not caring about it.

"I'm telling you, I'm not as heroic or just as you're making me out to be." Far from it, actually. "I'm just doing my duty as a member of the Service Club. Same as you and Yukinoshita."

"I-I mean... you're not wrong, I guess," Yuigahama seemed to be struggling to form cohesive sentences. "B-But still! You take time out of your schedule to help other people! To me, that deserves appreciation!"

I scoffed mentally. She made it sound as though I spent one-hundred percent of my time productively, and that I was sacrificing something vitally important for the sake of the club. The most I sacrificed was sleep and the ability to read my light novels. Though, to me, those two activities fell squarely into what I would deem "productive activities".

"The same could be said for you," I countered. "You deserve a bit of praise every now and then."

"Me?" Yuigahama squeaked, apparently surprised. As though it were the first time she even considered the idea. "Honestly... It's not really the praise I'm after."

I gave her a curious glance, and she quickly made to clarify. "D-Don't get me wrong! Having your efforts recognized is nice every once in a while, but if we're being honest... I'm happy just knowing that I made a positive difference for someone else." Her eyes lowered, and she smiled wistfully. "Most of the time, I feel like I'm just inconveniencing everyone. I'm not as smart as you or Yukino, and I'm definitely not as level-headed or graceful either. Heck, most of what you two talk about goes over my head, and I feel kind of useless, compared to you two."

"But, when I help others, and make them feel better about themselves, if only a little... it makes me forget all of those things," The light returned to Yuigahama's eyes, and she carried on. "I feel like I'm doing something with myself. That I'm not just some ditzy girl in the Service Club. That..." Her breath trembled, before she steadied herself again. "I'm not just a third wheel."

Then, of all things, she smiled. I'd argue that it shone as brightly as her dress did. "I know that you act like you don't, but deep down, you want a bit of praise too. Kinda like me." She laughed next— melodious and airy, and perhaps even genuine. "Guess that's one thing we _do_ have in common, huh, Hikki?"

I tried not to. I really did. But before I even knew it, a faint smile ghosted my lips. Yuigahama had that kind of effect on people. "Perhaps."

"See?" Her grin became even more cheeky. "You and I are pretty alike, despite our differences. Even if that makes you angry."

"Angrier than you'll ever know."

"Hey!"

She laughed again, and I had to fight the urge to grin like an idiot. Though, she was wrong about me desiring praise. After all, praise only got you so far in life, and as an established loner, any kind of praise lavished on to me was useless in all regards. I only partially agreed to what Yuigahama said simply because it would get her off my back and make conversation easier. Obviously.

"Okay!" Yuigahama clapped her cheeks together, rather comically. "Enough sad, boring stuff. We came here to have fun, and darn it, we're gonna have fun!" She stood, nearly toppling over in her heels, before extending her hand to me. I regarded the hand wearily before shooting her a bewildered expression.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Yuigahama tilted her head, as if what she were doing were the most obvious thing in history. "I'm inviting you!"

I didn't like the sound of that. Refer to previous chapters for my thoughts on invitations. "Inviting me where, exactly?"

She grinned again. This time, I managed to suppress any desire to mirror the action. "To the dancefloor, silly!"

Nope. "I'll pass, thanks."

Yuigahama pouted angrily. "Why not?"

"Do I look like the dancing type to you?" I mean, sure, I'd played a few dancing games with Komachi before, but those games were the sole extent of my experience in dancing. It didn't help that I got crushed by Komachi nearly every time we played each other, or that I got carried by her when we ran co-op. Besides, what kind of dignified loner _dances_?

"Hikki, there isn't _anyone_ here who's the dancing type," Yuigahama gestured to the dancefloor, and it felt as though I were staring in a mirror with all the janky and unnatural movements I saw. "Besides, we're just gonna waltz for a bit. I'll guide you the entire time, no worries."

I shouldn't have been surprised, considering that everyone else on the floor was waltzing (rather hard to break it down to classical hits from the seventeenth century, I suppose), but that didn't help stop the sudden bout of nerves that overcame me. Dancing was one thing, but dancing with another girl that wasn't your little sister was an entirely different monster.

"Geez, the nerve of you," Yuigahama chastised me. "Usually, it's the gentleman who invites the lady to the floor, not the other way around. You're lucky I'm so nice, Hikki."

Sighing, I stood up. I wasn't escaping this no matter how hard I tried. "Fine, whatever. How long are we doing this?"

Taking her hand into mine, I was surprised to see her move to fit herself against my own body. With what I thought to be sigh of some sort, she looked up towards me, with red on her cheeks and a gleam in her eye that did little to calm the nerves coursing through my body.

"For as long as I want."

I gulped, and mentally readied my will and testament.

* * *

The air at night feels nice. It's (probably) cleaner, for one thing, and it just feels better. Whereas the morning or afternoon air is brisk and intrusive, the evening air is calm and welcoming. I'm no air-connoisseur, but were I to act as one, I'd argue that night-air is the best air there is on the planet.

It's also cold. "Like my soul," my old chuuni-self would probably say.

I had danced for around half an hour. It doesn't seem like a lot, but when you spend all of it rhythmically shuffling your feet in the most awkward possible manner, with a partner who seems far too invasive of your personal space compared to other duos, it takes a lot out of you. As such, I had retreated to the one place I knew I could find solace in— the rooftop. Now, I was alone once again, relishing in the personal space I had once lost but now reclaimed.

The sun was just about to dip below the horizon. Currently, I was without any reliable way to discern what time it was, but it was obviously getting late. It seemed apparent that I would need to head home soon. For Komachi's sake, of course. Poor girl wouldn't know what to do without the guidance of her amazing big brother.

Though, as the evening breeze continued to settle around me, I figured it wouldn't hurt to lounge about for a while longer. It wasn't often that I was able to take in the ambience like this. I might as well enjoy it while I can.

Just as I was beginning to fall into my own reverie, a creaking sound from behind me nearly made me jump in surprise. It was a sound I knew well— the sound of the door leading to the rooftop being slid open. I looked to see whose company I was now in.

If Kawasaki was shocked to see me, she didn't show it. Silently, without as much as a greeting, she meandered her way to where I was, not even bothering to make eye contact. Upon reaching me, she unceremoniously plopped herself down on her bottom to my left and began removing the heels from her feet, discarding them next to her. So caught off guard was I to her presence that I almost missed what she said as she leaned backwards onto the railing. "Figured I'd find you up here."

"You figured right," I replied, just barely able to compose an appropriate response without stuttering. Which begged the question— how _did_ she figure that I'd be up here?

Kawasaki hummed, somewhat satisfied, and began to stare blankly up into the night sky. I returned to gaze at the where the sun had once been. Neither of us said anything. If talking to Yuigahama was awkward, then this qualified as cruel and unusual punishment. Why was she even here to begin with? This went beyond the bounds of mere coincidence.

"The weather's nice," Kawasaki commented out of nowhere. As awkward as it might have been at the moment, I couldn't deny that she was right. The gesture was harmless enough, anyway. "Sure is," I eventually agreed.

Though the weather was nice, it was still slightly colder than I'd like. A few stray shivers shook my body now and again. Despite this, I felt small bouts of concern course through me as I glanced at Kawasaki. While her dress was modest, it did little to protect her from the falling temperatures. Her arms were entirely exposed, as were her neck and upper shoulder areas. Her legs, while crossed for comfort and virtue, were still left to deal with the cooled air. It didn't look all that comfortable, to say the least.

My eyes unconsciously lingered, taking in how shapely her legs were, but I quickly thought better of it. Now was hardly the time to be hormonal.

I was in the process of offering her a jacket or blazer, before realizing that I was unequipped for such a favor. The only outerwear I (Komachi, rather) had chosen was my father's rather flimsy vest. With nothing to give in the way of help, I stood idly, still eyeing Kawasaki warily, which she apparently noticed. "Don't worry about me. I'm not cold, promise." I might have seen the smallest hints of a shiver, but I left that to my eyes playing tricks on me.

"We can head inside, if you want," I settled for at least offering to take her somewhere warmer. Sure, the scenery was nice, but I'd feel bad just having her freeze up here for my sake. It was hard to enjoy yourself with constant guilt gnawing at you.

"I told you, I'm fine," Kawasaki insisted, returning her gaze to me. Her makeup had apparently survived the night thus far. "Besides, I don't want to be any closer to that mess of a party than I need to be."

That caught my interest. "Did something happen?"

An angry sigh was accompanied by an annoyed response. "That idiot Tobe jacked the music and started playing EDM. What's worse is that most of the people _liked_ it. I hate this school."

It certainly sounded like common Tobe behavior. Though, I had to wonder where Miura and Hayama were during all of this. They were normally the ones who prevented such foolery from occurring. Tobe achieved Peak Tobe whenever his retainers weren't around.

Though, if they were both missing from the party at the same time... ah. I won't dive into that.

"What a shame," I replied. "The party was at the very least tolerable before that. A black mark on an otherwise successful night."

"Tolerable?" Kawasaki shot me a questioning look. "You looked miserable the entire time."

"That's just my normal face. And how did you know I was miserable the entire time?"

A huff. "Because I just know. Shut up."

Ignoring any possible implications behind that sentence, I made to change the topic. "I heard people praising your posters. Well done."

"You mean _our_ posters," Kawasaki quickly corrected. "It was a joint effort, remember?"

"Hardly," I snorted. "You carried that whole project. I just made a few suggestions and colored a bit. An infant could have done what I did."

"I wanted to give you a task within your skill range," Kawasaki joked. She had gotten marginally better at that lately. Not by a lot, but I could at least tell when she wasn't being serious anymore. Progress was progress, after all. "But seriously, you helped a lot. Don't downplay what you did."

"If you insist," I conceded. Considering that we already had this discussion, I wasn't in any real mood to continue it.

I was in the mood, however, to broach Kawasaki about something that had been weighing heavily on my mind as of recently. While I myself had never made any real effort to ponder the topic by my lonesome, it was something that I felt needed to be discussed with her. In fact, she was likely the _only_ one who had a say in what I was asking.

I made to speak, but stopped. The words were at the tip of my tongue, but struggled to go any further. I questioned my resolve— why was I hesitating? Surely I wasn't all that nervous. Hikigaya Hachiman, the self-proclaimed King of Loners, didn't get flustered, _especially_ around women. Sure, what I was bringing up carried some semblance of importance, but it wasn't as though I were asking her to marry me or anything.

My heart rate sped up slightly, and I quickly banished the thought. Bad analogy. Don't do that again.

Again, Kawasaki had apparently picked up on me wanting to say something. It was nearly off-putting, how easily she was able to sense whenever I was struggling to speak. "Something on your mind?"

"Yes, actually," I answered. I swallowed and cleared my thoughts. As cliché as it was, it was quite literally now or never. I likely wouldn't have a better opportunity to talk to her about this without interference. With only Kawasaki and the higher powers as witnesses, I made to speak.

"Do you feel safe?"

Of all things, Kawasaki's eyes narrowed at me. As though I'd grown a second head. "Do I... what?"

God, please don't make me explain. This is already super painful and awkward as it is. Seriously, _why_ did I have to come to this stupid festival? "I mean, do you feel safe. Going to and from work. That was the whole reason you requested help from the Service Club, right?"

Kawasaki still looked confused, before jolting in remembrance. Had she forgotten all about her own request? "O-Oh. Yeah... the request," rubbing her arms in thought, she answered me a few short seconds later. "I mean... I guess I do."

"You guess?"

"I don't feel in any immediate danger when I walk down the streets, at least," Kawasaki elaborated after my careful prodding. "Though, that's mostly thanks to you."

I sighed, relieved. Though I had asked for her sake, I was already aware of what her answer would be. I had searched the news for any recurring incidents around the area she and I worked at, and was pleased to discover that crime had gone down as of recently, exempting a few unfortunate cases. Whether it was an odd spike in crime in the first place or a simple regression to the mean was irrelevant— it seemed that Kawasaki would be safe now.

Which led to my next point of discussion. "I'm glad to hear that. That being said, there was something I wanted to tell you."

Kawasaki's gaze returned to me. "What's up?"

I took a small breath. Was the air suddenly feeling hotter? "I decided that I'm going to put in my two weeks notice tomorrow."

It was difficult to describe what happened as I spoke. It felt as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, only to be replaced by another, slightly heavier one. I was a mixed bag of contentment and regret, and I honestly couldn't tell which was more in abundance. I was happy to prospect on the idea of returning to a normal high school life (and a normal sleeping schedule), but the growing pang of uncertainty was steadily building within my consciousness.

I didn't dare look at Kawasaki— despite how calm I sounded, revealing how apprehensive I was feeling to her felt like a mistake, in addition to an obvious sign of weakness. I wouldn't allow my carefully constructed demeanor to show cracks in front of other people. Especially her.

While my inner turmoil was hard to describe, what wasn't hard to miss was Kawasaki's near immediate response. "No!"

Needless to say, I was taken aback. Her response had been practically instantaneous, and more than a little aggressive. "Excuse me?" I questioned, equal parts curious and cautious of where this conversation was heading. I wasn't in any mood to perform even more mental gymnastics, but I wanted to learn what made my normally reserved classmate lash out in such a manner.

Thankfully, Kawasaki at least appeared to be a little sheepish in response to her brief outburst. Clearing her throat, she carried on in careful sentences. "Um... what I meant to say is... that won't be necessary." Only now did I realize that she had stood up when replying to my statement, and I was acutely aware of how close she was to my person. In spite of this, I made no move to back away.

"This is more for myself than it is for you," I grimaced slightly as I corrected her. There wasn't any nice way of phrasing that sentence. "I figured that since you feel safe around your workplace, we can officially deem your request completed."

Kawasaki didn't reply for some time, leaving me the opportunity to quell the sudden surge in adrenaline I had received. I had been unconsciously clenching my fists and jaw for a good five minutes, be it due to the cold or other factors. I preferred to think the former as the primary cause, but given recent events surrounding the opposite sex, that supposition was up for debate.

It was almost shameful, in truth. Seeing myself get flustered and overwhelmed by women reminded me so much of my middle school self— a persona I thought I had long extinguished. Those odd sensations and feelings that I often used to suffer from whenever I saw a certain accursed woman from my adolescent past (she who shall not be named) had returned en masse, and the primary cause was standing right across from me with a conflicted look on her normally serene face.

Were I to be entirely honest with myself, I was beginning to question the very foundation of my opposition to such feelings. Something that scared the living daylights out of me.

As Kawasaki eventually got around to answering, she again folded her arms, though this time I had the foresight to look away. She seriously needed to stop doing that. For both our sakes.

"I understand where you're coming from," Kawasaki began, returning to a more controlled tone. "But I feel the need to remind you that my request has hardly been completed."

Disregarding my own inner turmoil, any version of Hikigaya Hachiman hated being disputed. Such was the selectively competitive nature of loners. "How is that? You admitted to feeling safe not more than two minutes ago."

"I admitted to being safe in the present," Kawasaki elaborated quickly. "That doesn't mean it'll stay that way. Chiba could experience the worst outbreak of sexual assault cases in recorded history within the next month, and you'd essentially be leaving me to fend for myself because of poor vigilance on your part. I don't think that would reflect well on either of us."

It pained me to admit that she brought up a valid point. Still, I wasn't willing to bend to sound judgement quite yet. "You and I are both aware that such an exaggerated occurrence won't happen. Besides, you're a strong girl. You can more than hold your own against any lone creeps that might be lurking out there."

"Creeps don't work alone, dumbass," Kawasaki refuted harshly, as if it were obvious. "You saw it with those college idiots, remember? There were three of them. What they lack in individual strength, they make up for in numbers."

"That can't be the case for every instance of sexual assault," I replied as innocently as I could manage. Kawasaki was probably right, but maybe I could pull a fast one on her and feign ignorance to make up for my misjudgment. I was due for some good luck anyway.

"Is the concept of organized crime a new concept for you? Or are you actually just that stupid?"

Maybe not then.

Kawasaki sighed. It sounded more exasperated than tired. "Look, I don't mean to come off as an asshole about it. I just... I don't agree with what you're doing."

"What _do_ you want me to do then?" I asked, genuinely at a loss. I had been so set on my previous course of action, but of course, Kawasaki had tossed that reasoning out of the window.

"Well..." Kawasaki made herself smaller. She nervously fiddled with the loose ends of her lustrous hair, and I'd be remiss to say that it wasn't eye-catching. "I mean... I don't want to place any more of a burden on you..."

Were I to be entirely literal with her, this whole request had been a burden on me. Now hardly felt like the appropriate time to mention that, though. "You're the one who made the initial request. As a member of the Service Club, I can only do what is asked of me by my client."

It was the most cordial and responsible answer I could come up with. It pained me to act so business-like (it felt as though I were already accepting my fate as a corporate wage slave), but given the circumstances, I felt as though it were a more than suitable answer. Hiratsuka likely would have praised me for it, were she here to witness it. Not that I desired such a thing.

My reply also seemed to have a somewhat profound effect of Kawasaki as well. She appeared to be a mixture of surprise and revelation, as though she had discovered the meaning of existence. A part of me enjoyed the sight— seeing the girl express emotion that wasn't stoic displeasure or outright anger was a welcome change. The feeling was purely platonic, of course, and in no way layered.

It was difficult to imagine that the very same girl had been berating me and calling me an idiot not more than a few minutes ago. Women, as always, were strange and fickle creatures.

"You said that you'd do what was asked of you, right?" Kawasaki broke me from my temporary muse, though she sounded uncharacteristically meek.

"Yes," I answered plainly. I wasn't without feeling, however.

"You promised that you would do anything that I told you to do, right?"

I certainly didn't recall making such a vow, but it wasn't like I was in any position to deny her. A part of me didn't entirely mind such an arrangement anyhow. "Yes," I repeated.

She didn't answer quickly, allowing me the chance to finally build the courage to look Kawasaki in the eye. The stars seemed to shine on her, illuminating the features of her face I had missed previously— the slender arc of her eyes that shone with fierce yet restrained emotion, the uncertain curve of her full lips, and perhaps the most dangerously alluring aspect of her, the very prominent blush adorning the majority of her pale cheeks. It took a great deal of force to stop myself from drinking in her entire appearance, which became increasingly captivating by the second. I wanted to berate myself for getting caught within such a hormonal and shameless state, but for the life of me, I couldn't manage to do so. I simply allowed myself to become enchanted by the sight of the girl before me.

"Y-You can't deny my request, understand?" Kawasaki stuttered (a rarity for her), and by this point, I had forgone all audible responses, instead choosing to nod semi-confidently at her. Taking my response with apparent acceptance, she made to speak once more.

It was quiet, nearly a whisper. I almost missed the sound of her soft voice as she gave me an answer I didn't know I had been eagerly waiting for.

"Then... stay."

As anticlimactic as her response might have sounded, I wasn't oblivious to the potential undertone of her words. Nervously, I pressed for more. "Stay?"

Kawasaki answered with little hesitation, and a surprising amount of resolve. "Hachiman, you are to stay with me until I deem it appropriate for you to consider the request fulfilled. Until then, you will remain in the employ of the Angel Ladder, and you will continue to escort me to and from work. Of course, you are also to ensure that any other miscellaneous requests by me are also handled promptly and with the utmost care."

Her voice faltered slightly as she continued in a softer tone. "You... are to remain by my side, without fail or negligence. Am I clear?"

"... sure," I replied lamely. It felt more suitable to salute her, given how she was ordering me around like a dispensable foot soldier. I doubted any man in the world had the courage to do such a thing, especially against someone as infamous as Kawasaki. I settled for biting my tongue.

Silence settled over us once more, yet Kawasaki remained painfully close to me. If she was aware of the fact, she apparently didn't mind. I was hardly self-conscious, but I was still very much unaccustomed to being within close proximity to anyone, even if I had no real reason to fear Kawasaki. Clearing my throat, I carefully shuffled away from my classmate in as polite a manner as possible.

Kawasaki seemed to get the inaudible message I was sending her, and in a flash, returned to a respectable distance away from me. "S-Sorry," she admitted quietly.

"It's fine," I replied. Funny to think that my coworker invading my personal space was one of the more uninteresting things that had occurred to me today.

Yet, as I stood there, I began to process how the whole scenario had gone down. Briefly abandoning my own insecurities, I mulled to myself quietly, partially enjoying the opportunity to take my mind off of the odd occurrences of the past few hours. I was much more in my element when I was thinking for myself, as opposed to reacting to others.

It simply didn't make sense. To think that Kawasaki would essentially force me to stay just didn't sit right with my own denotation of reason. In all honesty, I was hardly an effective bodyguard— the conflict with the college boys had more than shown that— and I wasn't some supreme gentleman that catered to her every whim and desire. I wasn't even all that good at my literal job at the Angel Ladder. I was, for all intents and purpose, a burden on _her_ , and certainly not the other way around. Excluding the bare minimum amount of protection I afforded her to and from work, I couldn't manage to come up with any concrete reason as to why she would want me to stay with her.

I tried to restrain myself, but I couldn't manage to sate my own intrigue without at least inquiring as to how such a resolution came to be. The question flew out of my mouth before I had the chance to think any better of it.

"Why?"

My sudden question seemed to confuse her. Seeing as how there wasn't any way I could retract my query, I made to elaborate.

"I mean, I'm not trying to sound rude. I'm glad I was able to keep you safe. But why go to such lengths to keep me around?"

I half her to be offended by my comment, considering that her own mood seemed to have shifted multiple times within the past half hour or so. I wasn't always as questioning or interrogative as I was being now, but the urge to know why was strong. There just wasn't any tangible benefit I could see were we to continue this routine of ours— at least to an extent, my request had been fulfilled. So why?

Fortunately, there weren't any signs of irritation that surfaced from my question, and she answered calmly. "Is there a problem with it?"

That was the strangest part. Despite everything that had transpired, everything that forced me to reevaluate my own characters and ideals, I found that I wasn't up in arms about it, when I felt that I very well should have been. And that _scared_ me.

Remaining stoic, I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. "Well... not really. I'm just wondering is all."

She looked at me then, with a gaze that was probably the most strange I had ever seen from her. Granted, I had seen her do quite a few strange things around me, and remembering the number of times she had looked at me with an expression I couldn't hope to read was quickly becoming a more arduous task by the day. To be unable to read between the lines of a person, something that I had considered my one gift, was vexing to say the least. Even now, I gazed at a face that shone with a light that went against everything I thought I could gleam from people.

The very few emotions I could pick up from her looked to be a strange mixture of determination and finality.

"Hachiman," she began, and almost unnoticeably, she made small steps in my direction. "Do you remember when you and the Service Club first helped me with Taishi's request?"

I remembered it well. Vividly, even. "I do."

"Do you remember how much of an ass I was to you guys?"

I almost had the urge to laugh. If I thought that the current Kawasaki was bad, the Kawasaki I met at the bar those many months ago was Satan incarnated. It was easy to forget how much she had grown since then. "Unfortunately, yes."

Taking my light jab in stride, she continued with the faintest of smiles. "Back then, work and violence was all I knew. I had been so focused on getting into college and taking care of my siblings that I had entirely disregarded any possible outside help. I thought that anyone willing to help me was either trying to extort me or get in my pants. Maybe both."

It was her turn to rub her head sheepishly. "It didn't help that I was still a bit of a delinquent. I solved most of my problems by punching them. You can imagine my apprehension when I saw three of my schoolmates that I had never spoken to previously come up and ask me about my job."

That much was understandable. I still get a little apprehensive when people I'm familiar with sneak up on me. Old habits certainly die hard.

"I'm sure you knew how much of an idiot I was. I forced the idea that it was me against the world, and I was certain that I didn't need to accept help from anyone," Kawasaki's eyes trailed off. "I lived a sad life. Going through all of that stress alone was probably the worst thing I could have done to myself. Even now, it's still my biggest regret."

Her eyes then returned with vigor. "But you and the others helped change that. If it wasn't for you three, my head would have been up my ass for God knows how long. I'd still be slaving myself half to death, and I don't think I'd even consider attending school regularly. Seriously, you three changed my life, and I can't thank you enough for it."

I fought the urge to look away. I don't think I'd ever get used to receiving praise for the stuff I did on behalf of the club. It was such an odd feeling to know that someone as backwards and unlikable as me had people that actually appreciated what I did for them. Whereas Yukinoshita and Yuigahama took it in stride, I still had a ways to go before ultimately realizing how I was supposed to react to praise being lavished upon me unwillingly.

Still, I'd be lying if I said it was an unwelcome feeling. Maybe Yuigahama was right about that whole appreciation thing. Not that I'd ever tell her, of course.

"Just doing my job," I answered simply. That was the truth. I certainly wasn't doing any of this out of any goodness of my heart. I was many things, but a good person certainly wasn't one of them.

Kawasaki apparently wasn't done, however. "That's the thing— a few months ago, I might have believed you. You're exactly the kind of guy to shirk any kind of responsibility and say that it was you 'just doing your job'. A lot of people hear that from you, equate it with your horrible reputation, and just agree with the idea that you're the worst guy in the world."

Another few steps closer to me. "But... but I know the truth. You're more than what those dumb rumors say you are. Those idiots out there just can't stand the thought of you being a better person than they're willing to admit, Hachiman."

"I..." I desperately searched for any kind of effective rebuttal, but my head was in the midst of a flustered spasm. Combined with how close Kawasaki was getting, I felt like I was slowly forcing myself into a corner I couldn't escape from. Quickly, so as to not have myself gaping at her like some sort of confused fish, I rushed out, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I might be the only one on this planet who knows what they're talking about," Kawasaki refuted instantly. Her eyes bored into mine, and she continued. "You walk me to and from work. You help me with school projects. You listen to me vent about my siblings and my schoolwork. You defend me from horny losers looking for a quick fuck. That goes beyond just doing your job as someone from the Service Club."

She was barely a few inches from my face, and that familiar scent of autumn resurfaced. I could feel her soft breaths tickling the base of my neck. The finer details of her face were heightened exponentially at such a short distance, and I had no choice but to look at her as she spoke, barely restraining myself from losing my collective consciousness.

"You..." to make matters more harrowing, that enchanting blush of hers returned in full force. "You're the sweetest guy I've ever met. If I'm being honest, you're everything I've been dreaming of, and nothing in this world or the next could change that."

I began to garner a vague idea of where this was going.

"Hachiman," she whispered, almost breathless. In a surprisingly bold move, I felt her slender arms wrap around my neck. "I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time, and I don't think I'll get a better chance than now. You're dense, lazy, and painfully cynical, but you're so much more than that. You helped me realize what I needed to do to get my life back on track, and I will be forever grateful for your help... and, as such," her grip then tightened. "I want to be the one to help change _your_ life for the better."

Kawasaki, shining in the moonlight, dressed in her beautifully modest dress, with just the right amount of makeup on, pressed forwards with the words that meant no return.

"Hachiman, I lo—"

"I need to go!" I forcefully pushed past her and untangled myself from her grip, trying my best to ignore the startled cry of shock and dejection. Not even bothering to look back, I sprinted away from her, past the sliding door to the rooftop, through the hallways with blurred faces I couldn't even hope to remember, all the way to the bike racks. Mounting my trusty steed, I peddled as quickly as humanly possible. Not once did I even entertain the idea of slowing down until I reached my house.

It was so like me. Cowardly. Reprehensible. Purely and utterly deplorable. But I was more than okay with that— for within those terms lied a sense of familiarity. A familiarity with being degraded and debased as a loner who didn't deserve the privilege of a happy ending. One who was undeserving of something truly genuine.

She had brought upon me something I feared more than any concrete person or object. She had introduced the concept of immediate change to me— the idea that even someone as horrible and shitty as I could find something worthwhile in other people. That despite my shortcomings, my faults, and my numerous mistakes in the past, that I too had the opportunity to strive towards something better in my life.

But I knew the truth. At least, I was rather sure I did. Life was unforgiving, and cruel, and hardly ever satisfying. Often you were presented with something, only to have it stripped away from you the moment you grew comfortable. Orimoto had more than proven that to me— I would not fall for the same trick twice, regardless of how believable Kawasaki might have looked. I was the only one who understood how I felt, after all.

Still, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remove the thought from my head. Kawasaki Saki, reformed delinquent, shameless bro-con, and certified workaholic, was interested in me romantically.

And, as I furiously peddled back to the comfort of my home, her gorgeous appearance refusing to leave my head, I was immensely worried that the feeling might have been mutual.

* * *

 _ **Yeah, I hit y'all with the biggest cocktease of 2019. What good author doesn't keep his audience on the edge of their metaphorical seat? Certainly not this one.**_

 _ **I initially thought of posting this on Valentine's Day (because how original would that be?), but upon further review, the chapter wasn't all that inspiring to me. I figured, "the readers have been waiting for months, what's a few more weeks?", and so, here we are, with a chapter I am much more proud of. One I hope you guys are proud of too.**_

 _ **Finally. After five chapters, and 50k+ words of dancing around each other, the real drama begins. Balancing out the fluff with the plot is tough, but it looks oh so sexy when put together. Also, for those who did and didn't notice, I threw in a little Yui love for the Gahama Gang members out there. Enjoy that to your hearts content. I know I did.**_

 ** _Not many more chapters to go until this is finished_** — _**the number is less than five. I hope you've been enjoying the ride thus far, and judging by the 400+ favs at the time of this being published (we almost front page!), I'd like to assume that you are. It's cool to see so many folks enjoying the garbage I spew out every few months. You make all the painstaking planning and writing worth it.**_

 _ **Gone 'head and Fav and Follow if you haven't already. Drop a review if you're feeling dangerous. Depending on how nice (or horribly mean) you are, I may or may not spend hours at a time stressing over what you strangers on the internet think of my fictional work.**_

 _ **That's all for now. Slalem out. Tell a loved one you love them.**_

 _ **~Slalem**_


	7. VII

_**And still**_ _ **, His and Her Youth Intertwine.**_

"I think I messed up."

Some brief shuffling sounded from the seat across from me. "A lot of people mess up. Nothing to be ashamed about."

"No," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I think I _really_ messed up. Like, badly."

The voice lifted its head upwards, taking a passive glance at me. "You'd be surprised to know how often I hear that."

The Angel Ladder was slow tonight— not that I particularly minded. The evening hours had grown late, and seeing that it was a rather mundane weekday, a majority of the few patrons who had bothered coming were already long gone, excluding a few passed out stragglers. Accompanied by the soothing piano music playing overhead, I had busied myself with checking inventory and cleaning used glasses by my lonesome.

Well, almost by my lonesome.

"Shouldn't it be time you headed home, Mr. Isshiki?" I inquired to the man across from me, abandoning the direction of our previous conversation. Daddy-cop didn't technically count as a straggler, considering he was still (somewhat) conscious, but he had parked himself on one of the barstools and had been downing alcohol for an unhealthy amount of time. He was decent company, but the man's liver could only take so much.

After what looked to be a brief struggle for words, I received a reply. "I'm good. Trust me, kiddo, I've had worse."

That might have been true, but I wasn't about to have the guy die on me in the event that it wasn't. I thought back to my training and referred to standard protocol. "I can call a ride for you, if you need it."

The man's look became stern. "I told you, kid, I'm fine."

"Your face says otherwise." Ironic that I was lecturing people on unappealing facial expressions. Takes one to know one, I guess.

The man heaved a great sigh, before revealing his badge. The words _'Chiba P.D.'_ were plastered squarely on the emblem, in shining silver letters. "As an enforcer and administrator of the law, you are legally obligated to turn around and make me a drink right this instant."

Ignoring the man's gross abuse of power, I was surprised to see him speak with such sudden clarity. I would be pressed to know if he was drunk or not had I not been serving him for the past few hours. "I don't think you have that kind of authority."

"You may be right," the older Isshiki pondered, before pocketing his badge and whipping out his wallet, fishing out a generous sum of money. "But money certainly does. Another White Russian, and make it strong."

I sighed again. The man would be dead by fifty, if he already wasn't on his last legs. Taking his cash, I turned to make his drink.

"Seriously though," I resumed after returning, handing the man his drink. "I can walk you home, if you need it. I have nothing else to do, and Oshino can close up shop for me." I would have to avoid any potential run in with Iroha, but I would cross that bridge if and when I got there. It was a nice gesture anyway.

"No need," Daddy-cop dug in his coat for yet another item, this time revealing an item I had familiarized myself with— a golden keycard, one allowing access to a hotel room. "I'm here on official business."

"What for?" I asked, curious.

"Providing security detail for some visiting cabinet member," the man waved nonchalantly. "Nothing all that important." I was ready to remind him otherwise, but after considering the nature of Daddy-cop's work, I assumed that tasks of this variety were commonplace for him.

"I doubt your client would be all that happy to see you drowning yourself in liquor," I reminded him.

"Already passed out drunk before I got here. He's probably sound asleep by now," the distinguished officer countered, before scoffing, "Guy's a total lightweight."

Deciding to take his word for it, I made to change the subject. It would be bad if someone of prominence overheard the man talking ill of his temporary employer. Politicians were among the scariest group of people this world had to offer. Next to women, of course.

"Doesn't being a police escort qualify as something..." I searched for the appropriate way to word my question. "... beneath you?" I was aware that Daddy-cop was a rather important figure in the police force, and while I was unaware of the specifics regarding his position, I had enough wherewithal to surmise that he was likely more at home directing general operations of the force, rather than acting as a simple bodyguard.

"It's best that you learn this now— there isn't anything that's beneath anyone." The man's gaze hardened for a moment, before sobering up. "I mean, the Prime Minister still has to wipe his own ass, doesn't he?" I voted against picturing the analogy in my head, but the cop brought up a valid point.

"Plus," Isshiki continued, taking a brief swig of his drink. "I've never been one for office work. That stuff's for the politicians. Being in the field with my guys, keeping an eye on things in the community— that's where I belong. What kind of man with power lets others do the heavy lifting for him?"

"Plenty," I retorted. "A simple look at history would tell you that much."

"A bunch of rich idiots experimenting with the naïveté of early man. Besides, where did all that power and affluence get them?" Oshino hunched over the counter, temporarily neglecting his drink. "Dead and buried, their only legacy remaining in those textbooks your teachers give you to study with as busywork."

"The police department exists solely to enforce the rules of the government," I felt inclined to remind him. "By default, that means you do all the heavy lifting for the people with a spot on the Diet."

The man was at least willing to concede that much. "You have a point. Then again," the cop smirked wryly. "Do people really regard those clowns in the Diet as men to begin with?"

I found myself chuckling with him. It was nice to find someone who despised authority as much as I did. It would also make a pretty good story for my future grandchildren— _'Your grandpa mocked the Japanese parliament with the head of the Chiba Police Department! I also indirectly killed him due to alcohol poisoning and induced liver failure!'_

Isshiki leaned back on his barstool, returning to his drink. A silent minute passed, before he spoke again, in a noticeably more hushed tone. "Do you know why it is that I hate people in power?"

There were a plethora of reasons I could think of. Most of them stemmed from the fact that a majority of the time, people in power simply weren't good human beings. Instances in which politicians made themselves better off at the expense of the people they swore to govern faithfully were too numerous to count. Tales of corruption and abuse have existed well before recorded history, and as the complexity of humanity has evolved with the gradual passage of time, so too have the ways that man has learned to swindle and enslave one another.

Still, despite my previous knowledge of this fact, I was interested to know why a man in power himself hated other men in positions similar to his. "I don't."

He acknowledged my answer before continuing. "I'm sure you're already aware of this, but folks with influence aren't exactly the most pleasant crowd to surround yourself with. Most of them fall into the category of arrogant, boastful braggarts. I can't remember the last time I met with some bigwig who didn't feel the need to tell me every individual accomplishment of his since birth. I don't think it'd be far off to say that most of the powerful people in this country are insufferable idiots so out of touch with the common folk that the only way they can cope is by receiving some modicum of attention every now and again."

He shrugged, somewhat melancholic. "But, then again, disliking people with power is a socially popular opinion, so saying 'I hate people in power' is a pretty safe thing to say. Really, any decently-informed citizen could tell you what I just said. At the end of the day, I'm not all that different from those in charge, as much as it pains me to admit it. We're practically the same, but I delude myself into thinking we aren't, in some way."

Isshiki then turned his head to me, apparently remembering I was present. "Tell me, Hikigaya— how similar do you think I am to those that lead this country?"

Deciding to humor him, I figured that I would at least try to answer his question. I didn't know the man very well, but he didn't seem all that bad at heart— which was already more than I could say for most modern powerful figures. Seeing that he and his daughter were eerily similar, I could surmise that his normal disposition was his true self, and not some elaborate charade he was forced to put on around others. While he certainly had his share of oddities, he also had plenty of good attributes, which made it safe for me to assume that he was plenty different than the particularly crooked individuals with influence that he so despised.

I was beginning to wonder why he even bothered comparing himself to people he was obviously much better than, at least from a moral standpoint. Unless the excessive alcohol had him feeling more out of it than usual, the difference between the two parties was clear. "If we're being totally honest, I don't see much of a similarity between you and those people."

Daddy-cop's tone then changed considerably, starkly contrasting his voice from before. "And why do you think that is?" His eyes remained on me, and I swore I saw a gleam reflecting in them.

I thought back to what I knew of Isshiki's character. Admittedly, it wasn't much to go off on, so any possible answer to the man's question would be exempt from any substantial evidence. The only thing I could really think of was his assistance during our first meeting, which even then didn't give me much in the way of answering his question— he had been sober during that whole affair, after all.

"I don't know," I was forced to reply. It was irritating to have to concede a question of character, something I imagined myself to be an expert in evaluating. Considering what I did and didn't know, however, I didn't have much of a choice.

"So there _are_ things you don't know," though the man intended the phrase with humor, he was bereft of laughter. "Well, you're still just a high schooler, so I guess it makes sense. I suppose an explanation is in order, yeah?" He settled into what I assumed to be a comfortable pose, and despite my irritation, I made to listen intently.

"Right now, there's likely a man somewhere in this city getting robbed and shot on his way home from work. A woman being kidnapped and taken advantage of. Some kids your age being enslaved and sold for profit, blindly going along with it because they don't know anything else," despite the unnerving nature of his words, Isshiki held a regretful smile, gazing solemnly at the wall of drinks behind me. "And here I am, cooped up in some fancy hotel, keeping an eye on some power-hungry slob who's likely committed more crimes than he cares to remember."

Isshiki's collected appearance seemed to waver for the first time that night. Not that I could blame him.

"It's an agonizing feeling, I'm sure you've guessed," he continued. "It doesn't go away, either. The thought that you could be doing _something_ for _someone_ has a habit of lingering in the mind. It was especially rough when I first started the job— I wanted to spend every waking moment on duty, patrolling the city and helping anyone who needed it. A part of me still does, though I've gotten much better at controlling the urge."

It took a few seconds, but the man's tired eyes eventually made their way back to mine. "You see what I'm getting at?" Choosing against words, I nodded silently, even if the full scope of his explanation escaped me. The man seemed content with at least that much.

"I do what I do because I have the power to do it," Isshiki fiddled with the now empty glass in his hand, spinning it inattentively. "I was forced to make a choice between morals and power, and hilariously enough, they made me have to juggle the two. So when I'm not having to sit in on a city council meeting, or having to escort some cabinet member to his 35-acre mansion, I get in the field and do the job I signed up to do, because god _damn_ it, I have the power to do it in the first place."

He leaned backwards, stretching his back with an audible sigh as he did so. "That's what I think separates me from those lazy bastards. They get the power and the accolades and are content to just sit on it— I'd rather use my power to face this city's problems head on. And I wouldn't even think twice about doing it any other way."

"How do..." I briefly struggled to speak, still trying to decipher what the cop's overarching point was. It was a tiny miracle that I didn't jumble my words any more than I did. "How do you deal with all of that?"

"Easy," the man replied with a surprisingly little amount of hesitation. "I have a beautiful wife and adorable daughter to come home to. The job is taxing, and more than a little straining on the psyche, but it's worth it when I think of my two favorite women on this planet." He allowed himself a soft chuckle, seeming to return to his previous state of sly leisure. "Three, if you count my mother-in-law, but that's a story for another time."

I was silent for a moment, digesting his words carefully. It was a lot to take in, certainly. It felt as though there was a lot more to the man than he let on. I'd need some time to reevaluate my opinion of him in the future.

In the present, Isshiki seemed to notice my prolonged silence, and continued speaking. "You're awfully quiet. Something on your mind, perhaps?"

Neglecting the option to reply, I continued wiping down glasses. Isshiki seemed to go against pressing for an answer, and took to examining the remaining contents of his long-empty drink, before eventually speaking again. "Hey, where's your friend at? The cute one with the long hair?"

"She's sick," I replied. It didn't take much to decipher who he was talking about. "Came down with a cold. Don't know when she's coming back."

"And did she tell you that herself?" The man replied, unconvinced. "Or is that just pure hearsay?"

My grip on the glass increased marginally. Daddy-cop sure was nosy, for a drunk. "It doesn't matter. If her absence bothers you that much, you can have Oshino call her for you."

Very much aware of my suddenly defensive attitude, Isshiki turned towards me with a face made of nonchalance. It certainly didn't do much to mitigate my growing temper. "I don't know about that. Doubt she'd be real happy to receive a call an hour past midnight from an old geezer like myself," the man then gave me a knowing look. "Though, if it were you on the line..."

Putting the glass down, I turned towards the man with an angry glare. "What are you getting at?"

"Spare me the look, Project Manager. Oshino already told me what happened." I suppressed the urge to clench my fist any harder than I already was. Oshino, for the life of him, couldn't keep a secret to himself. Never mind that I wasn't even the one who told him of my tenuous situation with Kawasaki in the first place— which prompted an entirely new crop of questions that I would have to ponder at a later time.

"How much did he tell you?" I kept my voice low and even, if only not to give away how agitated I was.

"Most everything," Isshiki replied, before snorting in apparent amusement. "I mean, I get being nervous in front of a pretty girl, but _running away_? That's pretty lame, Hikigaya. I have half a mind to arrest you for that."

"I have half a mind to kick you out," I retorted, choosing to exercise some of my power as a bartender. Of course, I couldn't actually do that without consulting Oshino first, but the aim was to spook Isshiki into shutting up, unlikely as that was.

The man ignored my threat entirely, however, and continued speaking. "Look, if you want my honest opinion, yes, you absolutely messed up," it took me a minute to realize he was referring to our earlier conversation. "But unless you directly insulted her chastity or something like that, I doubt she's _really_ angry at you."

I felt ashamed for even considering what the man was implying, but I didn't want to pass up the chance on learning something he knew that I didn't. "What do you mean?"

"You're well acquainted with Iroha, if I'm not mistaken," Isshiki began. "Believe it or not, she takes a lot more after her mother than she does me. A lot of her little tricks and nuances can be traced back to the devilish fiend I call my wife." I had a hard time following where he was going with this, or how this related to me, but I assumed there would be some kind of point he made with this sudden digression. I hung onto every word.

"For as long as I've known her at least, Iroha's mom has always been the way she is," the man reminisced with a fond smile on his face. "We met in high school, and even then, she was as sly and cunning as she is now. I remember dreading having to go to school and dealing with whatever scheme she would plan for me. She made a habit of teasing me specifically, since I was the only one willing to consistently put up with her."

He laughed softly. "The years passed and we got older, but she still never changed. I eventually enlisted in the force, she went off into university, and even though we could hardly ever make time to see each other, she would still put in insane amounts of effort just to make fun of me in person. Back then, I could never get an accurate read on why she acted the way she did, but when you spend so much time with someone, you're bound to pick up on a few things."

His smile faded, and his disposition became serious once again. "Hikigaya, I've known my wife for years upon years now. She might be one of the most eccentric and enigmatic women this world has to offer, but I still love her with everything I have. How do you think one goes about dealing with a woman like that?"

Seeing that I had finally reached the end of his little love story, I refocused, searching for an answer. Considering I had developed no effective way of dealing with Iroha, I was short on any definitive answers. "I didn't think such a thing was possible."

"It's daunting, but it certainly is possible," the man reassured me. "You might be surprised at how simple it is."

"Dealing with any woman of your daughter's nature seems like the furthest thing from simple."

"Oh, but it is!" Isshiki grinned haughtily, the alcohol beginning to catch up to him. "All you need to do... is be aggressively honest."

I took a moment to digest the man's words, trying to see if there was some double meaning embedded within them. After a silent pause of consideration, I found myself more confused than I had been previously. "Aggressively honest? What does that even mean?"

"Allow me to explain," the cop declared. "My wife, for as long as I've known her, has almost _never_ been flustered. She's as confident and composed as women can be. Only once have I been able to break through her act and leave her at a true loss for words."

I was still reluctant on interpreting his story as fact rather than fiction. "How did you do it?"

"Easy," the man replied. "I proposed to her."

Taking my partially shocked and confused silence into account, he continued. "We'd just gotten back from a fancy date I'd been planning for months. I was dropping her off at her apartment, and in a sudden burst of courage, I proposed to her. I didn't even know if she liked me in the same way I liked her, and I'd been planning on doing it much later, but I thought, 'What better time than the present?'. It worked better than I could have dreamed— she blushed, started crying, and told me that she had loved me since high school. Despite how often she teased and made fun of me, she had been harboring and building romantic feelings for me for years at that point, without giving me even the slightest clue."

I was momentarily stunned. I could understand something like that happening in an anime or light novel, but for it to happen in real life? It was baffling. It went against everything I assumed about modern romances. "That's seriously all it took? There weren't any other strange occurrences that happened?"

"You're a little too young to know what happened next," Isshiki dismissed quickly, before continuing. "The point is, women are never straight up about anything. Your coworker's little confession was likely one of the few moments of honesty she'll have in her entire life. To the opposite sex, revealing their true feelings is a sign of weakness, and to do it in front of simpleminded men like you and I is probably a death sentence in their eyes."

"So," the cop declared with finality. "To combat this, you need to be honest and up-front with her. Don't give her a chance to misconstrue the nature of your relationship. It's kind of like what I was talking about earlier, in a way— if you have the power to do something good for yourself and others, by all means, you should do it. Don't be like one of those morons in the Diet and wait for things to go your way. Make an opportunity for yourself and seize it."

I had a little trouble taking this all in. "Did you really lecture me for a half hour about how much you hate politicians, just for the sake of setting up a reason for me to make up with my coworker?"

"Perhaps," the man shrugged. "Of course, I could be entirely wrong about how to go about this whole thing. There isn't another woman on this planet like my wife, excluding my own daughter. Your little friend might actually hate your guts and despise you even more if you go about a direct approach."

"That's reassuring," I grunted.

"But that's the beauty of love, isn't it?" The man smiled, reveling in his moment of poetic clarity. "The risk and uncertainty of it all. It makes it all the more sweeter if you two work out in the end, doesn't it?"

If it worked out. In all likelihood, taking this approach probably wouldn't work out for me in the long run. Kawasaki wasn't nearly as conniving or sly as Daddy-cop thought she might have been, and choosing to stroll right up to her and discuss the nature of our relationship days after running away from her didn't come across as the most foolproof strategy.

Besides, what did "working out" even entail? Making up and continuing as good friends? Going back to the way things were before her request _?_ _Dating?_ That last thought was reason enough for me to hold back on undertaking a direct and honest approach with her.

But, a part of me knew that Isshiki was right, in a sense. I couldn't keep ignoring and dancing around this issue forever. I'd be no better than those idiotic sheep I constantly made a point to mock. As the model disciple for loners all around the world, it was my duty to discard any personal feelings and put an end to an issue that presented a problem for me. Such was the most logical course of action.

Though, perhaps it would be wise to reserve immediate action. At least until I had an effective plan of dealing with this whole fiasco. Yeah, that sounded reasonable.

I momentarily forgot that Daddy-cop was present, and was chagrined to think that I allowed him to witness the range of mental gymnastics I had been performing for the last two minutes. True to form, I was met with an infuriatingly smug grin across from me.

"If it makes you feel any better," the cop began, stifling an alcohol-induced hiccup. "You two would be the most adorably awkward couple I think the world might ever see."

"You're running out of material," I retorted.

"You'd know plenty about running out on things, wouldn't you?"

Chief Isshiki left with a rather expensive bill shortly after.

* * *

Yuigahama was awfully pushy today.

"C'mon, slowpoke!" I felt as though my arm was going to be snapped from my body if she pulled me any harder. I was already low on muscle as I was, and the precious few I already had were screaming in protest against the unstoppable force that was this high school girl. Perhaps a gym membership needed to be considered in the future.

I had hardly even a second to consider why my clubmate was so insistent on dragging me to the clubroom. Rather than lingering with her little posse as she normally did, she had immediately snatched my bicep and guided me out of the classroom, zipping me in the direction of the clubroom as quickly as possible. I barely had time to retrieve my bag before I was stolen away, like some coveted treasure. Not that anyone saw me as such.

Weaving through the halls at an uncomfortably fast pace, I felt it necessary to mention that I had never seen Yuigahama this determined in anything. The common mediator between Yukinoshita and I, it almost benefited her to be more simple and lackadaisical in order to balance out the other two extremes in the club. I presently couldn't see her face, but I imagined her to be wearing a rare look of resolve and staunchness that only revealed itself during times of dire need. Which made me further question the reason behind why she was dragging me along so stubbornly in the first place.

I made to voice my thoughts. "Yuigahama, what's the meaning of this?" I nearly swallowed my words after bumping into what had to have been the thirteenth passerby inadvertently exposed to Yuigahama's haste.

"Can't tell you!" The girl replied instantly. "You'll just have to wait until we get there!"

"That's helpful," I grumbled tiredly. I was still reeling from the previous night's encounter with Daddy-cop, and to say I was operating at less than full capacity would be a vast understatement.

"Don't worry!" Yuigahama reassured me, apparently thinking it would help in some capacity. "I have a feeling you're gonna like what we're planning for you. Probably."

I squinted, confused. "We? Who is we—"

"We're here!" Yuigahama announced, and sure enough, I found myself standing at the cusp of an all-too-familiar entrance. I briefly relished the returning circulation in my arm, before turning to interrogate my classmate once more.

"Yuigahama, what's going on? I'm hoping there's a good reason you nearly tore my shoulder from its socket just to get me here."

"Oh, relax!" Yuigahama brushed my inquiry aside, returning to her airy self. "I was plenty gentle. And to answer your question... well, I can't answer your question. But you'll see!"

I glanced at the sliding door. "You mentioned a 'we'. Is Yukinoshita involved in whatever plot you've been hiding from me?"

Feigning ignorance, the girl looked away intentionally, placing a finger on her chin. "Perhaps."

"I see. Guess I'll be leaving then."

I had barely turned a step in the opposite direction before my arm was tugged on once again. The jolt of pain that shot through my arm again was enough to make me reconsider having attempted to leave in the first place. "What?! You can't just leave! That'd be, like, really rude and stuff!"

"Since when has any plot involving the combined efforts of you and Yukinoshita ever proven beneficial for my well-being?" I asked. Yuigahama biting her lip in distressed contemplation was the only real answer I needed to that question.

"Y-You might be right. But this time is different! You'll really like what she and I came up with, trust me!" The girl was all but pleading to me, and were I a man of pure efficiency and logic, I would have already exited the premises by now. Such was the level of existence I strived for.

But alas, I had a little sister, and was thus susceptible to the whims of cute girls and pouting faces. Yuigahama was by no means Komachi, but that damn look in her eyes could give puppies a run for their money. I once again cursed the gods for bestowing upon me the bane of brotherly affection. It would one day lead to my ultimate demise, I was sure of it.

I sighed, letting the last of my resistance exit my body. "This isn't some scheme to force me into even more work?"

The girl crossed her heart with her finger dramatically. "I swear on Sable."

"That's meaningless. Your dog hospitalized me."

"You know what I mean!"

Turning with a grunt, I reached for the door. "I sure hope I do." Begrudgingly, I slid the door open and made to meet my fate.

The room was entirely dark— which was concerning, considering it was only a little past midday. The windows had been shuttered, and the furthest I could see in front of me was a few feet.

I turned to Yuigahama questioningly, but she still held her brimming smile, patiently motioning me to keep going. "Go on!" Obliging her, I took a few more tentative steps, and was immediately assaulted by a sudden blinding light.

"Surprise!"

The cacophony of voices nearly made me jump. Quickly adjusting to the light, I found everything in the clubroom to be as it normally was, excluding the body count. Familiar faces nearly packed the room, and suddenly forced into the center of attention, I found myself struggling for words.

"Wha… what's going on?"

"What do you think's going on?" Yuigahama chirped behind me, now adorning a rather comical party hat. "We're celebrating your birthday, of course!"

My eyes narrowed. "It isn't my birthday. It's not even _close_ to my birthday."

"We're well aware of that," another voice called from within the clubroom, and I found myself facing an amused Yukinoshita, who also choose to wear an excessively colorful party hat. Personally, I didn't think it suited her all that well. She was hardly the colorful type. "We chose to throw this surprise party for you to make up for all of the years in which you spent your birthday alone."

"I..." Initially making to dispute her claim, I thought better of it after some internal deliberation. She was right, after all. "How did you know that?"

A small smirk. "Komachi _loves_ to talk about her big brother."

My ultimate demise by brotherly affection had arrived early, it seemed.

"Okay, that's enough talking! We're here to celebrate, after all!" Yuigahama, sensing a potential feud, quickly made to get the party back on track. "There's cake and other treats if you're hungry! We're gonna play some games and open presents later, so everyone, have fun!"

A chorus of cheers sounded from all around me, and the party was underway. Still partially dazed, I made to sit in my familiar chair— which had been strategically moved into the direct center of the room. I assumed that had been prepared in advance to prevent any wall-hugging on my part. My clubmates, as always, were annoyingly shrewd.

Now that I had been given time to actually think, I was more than a little surprised by this surprise party (obviously). I had been given no clue that something of this nature was being planned, and considering that Yukinoshita and Yuigahama were well aware of my aversion to attention, it was odd to see that they had settled on throwing a party for me at all, as opposed to something more lowkey. Frankly, I was a bit shocked that they had even bothered doing this much for my sake. The feeling of something being coordinated and aimed for my benefit and entertainment was a feeling I was wholly unused to.

I imagined that this was what it must have felt like to be a Raijuu. Everyone lavishing attention onto you, celebrating your very existence with treats and presents and whatnot. Whereas I only received this sort of pleasure once a year, Raijuus received it nearly every day of their lives. It was an enlightening paradigm shift for me, though I didn't really know what to do with this information, or how to feel with what I was currently experiencing. Again, this sort of thing was something I really wasn't used to.

After some silent thinking, I shrugged off any questions I might have had. It was innocent, harmless fun, and there didn't seem to be any drama involved. I got free cake and presents out of it too, which was always nice.

My stomach conveyed its interest in the aforementioned free cake, and I made to get a slice. Meandering my way towards a delicious looking chocolate cake, I took notice of who had been invited. My clubmates seemed to have a generally good idea of who I could tolerate for a few hours— Hayama's regular clique was no where in sight, to my immense pleasure. Hiratsuka, barely a meter away from where the snacks were, was nearly inhaling her slice of cake, sneaking in a few drinks of something that had to be alcoholic from a tiny flask in her coat pocket. Ebina stood by harmlessly, chatting away with Yuigahama about this and that. She didn't seem to be in her acclaimed Fujoshi mode, thank the heavens.

On the subject of heaven, seeing Totsuka shyly eating an adorably small piece of cake nearly made my heart burst. I suddenly wished that I had bothered charging my phone last night. I wanted to record this moment in time forever. That precious smile of his made life worth living.

Begrudgingly returning to reality, I arrived at my destination. I grabbed a plastic plate, and with a nearby fork, made to reach for the nearest slice of chocolate treasure. My hand's path was interrupted, however, by another hand with the same idea. A dainty, familiar hand that made my breath hitch.

Kawasaki looked up at me, equally surprised, and I froze entirely. It seemed unlikely to me before now, but I should have known that she would have been invited something like this. She was on good terms with the rest of the Service Club, and seeing that Yuigahama and Yukinoshita were unaware of the stilted relationship we currently shared, it made sense that she would be extended an invitation. I was a fool for thinking that this would be a drama-free affair.

Though, I wondered why she had bothered coming, considering the terms we were on. Maybe she wasn't as mad as I thought she was, as Isshiki had suggested. It gave me a faint glimmer of hope, at least.

We stood there for a moment, awkwardly sizing each other up. I hadn't spoken to her, much less seen her, since the incident at the cultural festival. She looked hardly any different, but I knew better than to take her appearance at face value. Those eyes of hers shined with the same intensity they did during that eventful night, though this time with a kind of emotion I assumed to be entirely different. An emotion much more complex than simple affection.

My mind flashed back to what Isshiki said to me last night. _"Be honest and up-front with her. Don't give her a chance to misconstrue the nature of your relationship."_ It sounded too simple to be effective, but Daddy-cop was evidently far more experienced in dealing with the opposite sex than I was. I would have to deal with this issue eventually anyway— it would be most efficient to deal with it now, as opposed to later.

My voice briefly struggled to find the confidence to work. "Kawasaki, I—"

But she didn't stay. She tore her eyes from me, and wordlessly left, sparing me not even the simplest of glances or gestures. My voice died, and I somberly watched her go, making no effort to chase after her. Whatever confidence I had in resolving the conflict between us swiftly left along with her.

A part of me would admit that it hurt to see her entirely disregard my presence, despite everything we had gone through together. Another part of me scoffed at my ignorance— I was the reason we were in this situation to begin with, so it was only natural that I live with the consequences of my actions, as I so frequently preached. There wasn't much to argue against from that standpoint.

Huffing, I forced my resolve to resurface anew within me. I was plenty aware that we couldn't struggle in this conflict forever, and Daddy-cop had inspired me to act on his words. I would have to try and catch her later on and talk this out, whether she wanted to or not. It was a selfish thing of me to do, but I couldn't bear to watch a mistake of mine so deeply trouble someone I held genuine respect for. I knew for a fact that Kawasaki could be doing much more important things than sulking in response to what I said (or rather, didn't say) to her.

My confidence was restored, but the question of what I was going to say to her still remained. _"Hey, sorry for running away from your confession a few days ago. I know you're still sad, but can we be friends again? It gets real lonely at the bar late at night."_ It was good to be direct with people, but being that blunt with her very well could have produced the opposite of what I was aiming for. I would have to be extremely delicate with what I was going to say, so as to resolve the issue effectively, but not insinuate anything that could have led to serious complications and misunderstandings.

I sighed. This was such a chore. Could I not celebrate my fake birthday in peace? I hadn't even had any cake yet.

Appetite returning, I grabbed a slice and made to return to my seat in the middle of the room, still quietly brooding over a method of approach. So many things to say, so little time. Maybe if I acted as though I were having an allergic reaction during her confession then she would think that I wasn't really running—

"Hikigaya! Dear brother in arms!"

 _Just_ what I needed. I suppressed the intense urge to groan.

Zaimokuza lumbered his way towards me, grinning exuberantly. A few bits of cake icing were present on the sides of his mouth, and it took a strong amount of willpower not to throw up on the spot. How could someone _live_ like that?

I calmed myself down, finishing my slice of cake faster than I would have liked. Untimely as his appearance had been, it might have proven beneficial. It could do me some good to be able to take my mind off of Kawasaki and focus on something (or someone, rather) much more simple like Zaimokuza. He wasn't the most normal person I'd met, but he was predictable. And a genuinely good guy, despite his many flaws. Not that I'd ever tell him that.

I turned towards him, straining a friendly smile. He was barely a few feet away and I could already tell that he was sweating profusely. He seriously needed to ditch that ridiculous trench coat, for everyone's sake. "Hey, Zaimokuza."

"It's been far too long, comrade!" He heartily patted me on the back, and I suddenly wanted to take an hour-long shower. "How goes life's happenings?"

"It's... happening," I replied after a time. It was hard to understand what he was saying sometimes, with all that weird fantasy jargon he spewed out constantly. "I got a job."

"You're employed?!" Zaimokuza nearly yelled, before coughing and returning to a much more appropriate voice level. "Erm, what I meant to say was, fantastic! It goes without saying that a man rivaling my own ingenuity would find himself taking the world by storm! I'd expect nothing less from you!"

Ignoring his obvious disdain, I made to keep the conversation flowing. I would need this practice later on. "It's not that big a deal. What's been up with you?"

Apparently surprised that someone had actually inquired about his life, the chubby teen briefly struggled for words. "W-well, er… I suppose one could say my life currently resides in an extended state of limbo! Yet I know it is only a prolonging of my awaiting destiny— my time to shine rides upon the horizon, eagerly waiting my arrival unto greatness and immortality!"

"... so nothing much?

"... y-yeah."

Like I said, a simple creature. But ultimately one I felt comfortable around. Sort of.

His enthusiasm returned as suddenly as it had left. "Oh! Your presence reminds me—" a bit of digging around in a bag slung around his shoulder, before revealing an unholy amount of paper. "—you and Mistress Yukinoshita's words have proven invaluable to my thought procession! Thus, I present unto your eager soul, my revised epic!"

Oh. I had almost forgotten about that thing he was trying to write. I was pressed to call it an epic— it was more so a tragedy, and not in the sense of a genre designation— but I somewhat admired his tenacity in perfecting it. It at least gave him something slightly productive to do with his free time, keeping him from being an even bigger menace to society.

But alas, I was hardly in the mood to read a sub-par isekai-harem in its developing stages. Fortunately, I had planned a distraction in the event that Zaimokuza tried to get me to read his abomination of a literary work.

"You know what?" I spoke softly, as if addressing a toddler. "I'm not all that good at critiquing media, to be quite honest with you. I'm more of a consumer type. I can't really find it within me to put down a piece of work that someone has put so much effort into."

Zaimokuza raised an eyebrow. "But Hikigaya, you were quite brutal with me in our last review sessi—"

"That being said," I continued, cutting him off. "You know who's _really_ in the mood to read your work?"

The chuuni's eyes began to glimmer with faint traces of hope. "Who?"

I stuck a thumb in the direction of Yukinoshita, in the middle of a casual conversation with Hiratsuka. "Mistress Yukinoshita has been _dying_ to read more about your story. Lately she's been telling me about how much she yearns to know what happens next in your... uh, epic."

Hope was replaced with skepticism. "But, if my mind recalls correctly, Mistress Yukinoshita was even more harsh in her critique than you were."

"Typical tsundere behavior," I waved off, briefly thanking my own anime knowledge for bailing me out. "I assure you, she is more than eager to view your work again."

Again, Zaimokuza's hope resurfaced astoundingly fast. "Are your words true, dear comrade?"

The lie flowed out like honey. Delicious, revenge-coated honey. "Indeed they are."

I didn't even have time to inhale another breath before Zaimokuza made a beeline towards Yukinoshita, manuscript in hand. Suppressing the urge to cackle venomously— such an act would have come off as unseemly and creepy to potential onlookers— I returned to my seat, feeling slightly better about myself than I had been a few minutes earlier. Bringing unnecessary and entirely preventable hardship unto Yukinoshita always made the sun shine a little brighter in my world.

And yet, a small part of me stung with dissatisfaction. Not with regards to my prank, but with Zaimokuza. As often as I acted above him, he lived a vastly more fulfilling and (dare I say it) genuine lifestyle than I did. He never felt the need to put up a front, act differently around others, or go through any of the other hoops and such that I had to endure on a daily basis. His life was as simple as he wanted it to be, to the point where it could be harmlessly predicted with relative ease.

In a way, you could argue that Zaimokuza had won at life. He refused to conform to what the world expected of him, and to that end, he was likely one of the realest people I knew. For all the fake acts and performances that people put up every day, Zaimokuza woke up, put on that disgusting trench coat, grinned like an idiot and acted the same as he always had. This world had yet to change him, and honestly, I doubted it ever would.

I almost felt the need to laugh. I was praising Zaimokuza, of all things. Maybe I had changed more than I would like to admit.

His and Yukinoshita's long-winded conversation had already begun— babbling about prose and wish-fulfillment and other such terms qualified writers tended to use— and while I was tempted to watch the unfolding comedy, my mind felt renewed with unexpected inspiration. Turning silently, I made for the door and left the room, allowing myself a last rueful glance at the jubilant scene and the vast amount of presents I was leaving behind.

There was a certain coworker of mine who needed a firm talking to.

* * *

I found her heading towards the back exit of the school, just preparing to leave. Her steps were long and drawn out, as though somber in tone. Accompanied by no one (as hardly anyone ever used the back exit), she appeared every bit as the lone wolf she made herself out to be. Only this time she appeared to be more isolated and stoic than she normally was.

I sighed. That was probably because of me. Or maybe I was just reading too much into it. Either one at this point.

Approaching her, I was caught between a leisurely walk and a brisk jog. I didn't want to alert her of my presence, but I also didn't want to risk it looking like I was methodically following her like some weird stalker. The last thing I needed was for the student body to think I was a predator _on top_ of a loner. My social life would _really_ take a hit if that were to happen.

I shook my head, jarring my thoughts. I was thinking too much. Crafting out a well-organized plan hadn't helped me before in these situations, and it certainly wouldn't help me now. I had to go with my gut on this one— it was likely the only genuine thing I could force myself to act on.

My voice found the strength to work again in her presence. "Kawasaki."

She halted near the gates, frozen entirely. She stood there for a moment, quiet and motionless, like a painting from afar, her figure clashing heavily with the setting sun. I briefly thought of the moment as picturesque, but I bit my tongue in retaliation to my wandering mind. Now was hardly the appropriate time to wax poetic.

Still motionless, Kawasaki didn't even bother to turn towards me in response. Her voice was cold and level, betraying nothing of her emotional state or countenance. "What is it?"

Despite myself, my mind strayed towards my conversation with Mr. Isshiki from the previous night. _"All you need to do... is be aggressively honest."_

I didn't know if I could do that. I had barely started being honest with myself not too long ago, and to reveal my true emotions and feelings to others normally seemed impossible, much less in an aggressive manner. It was against my very nature as a seasoned loner to even consider the way of honesty, and to force it now would only result in sure disaster.

So yeah, 'aggressive honesty' or whatever was out of the question.

But I could certainly handle something like aggressive curiosity.

"Why did you show up to the party?" I asked, attempting to keep my voice as level and collected as hers.

A slight bout of hesitation filled the air from her end, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I had managed to break through and disrupt her demeanor. While not my desired effect, it could make the process of getting through to her a bit easier. I certainly wouldn't mind such a result.

But those hopes died when her stoic voice returned again. "Yuigahama and Yukinoshita politely asked me to attend. It was purely out of obligation."

I was keen to notice the difference in her usual manner of speech. She only spoke professionally at work, and even then it was limited. Hearing her speak with such resounding clarity was new for me— and honestly, a bit frightening.

Yet, I came out here for a reason. I wouldn't be deterred, even by her. "That's a lie."

My bold reply had its intended effect— Kawasaki turned her head towards me, donning that formerly familiar frown I used to see her wearing all the time. Back when she was Kawasaki the distant classmate, not Kawasaki the... whatever we are now. "What are you saying, Hikigaya?"

"I'm saying you came for more than simple obligation," I repeated. "You were expecting something."

Her eyes narrowed further, and it was becoming increasingly more of a challenge not to wilt in the face of her growing hostility. While not outwardly appearing to want to engage in physical violence, the look Kawasaki was shooting me was more than enough to nearly disarm me. "And just what do you base that assumption off of?"

"There's no assumption needed," I replied quickly, not allowing my brain the chance to even register that my mouth was quickly drying or that my heart was beating faster. "I know you. How you act, how you think. There was no way that you came to the party just to appease my clubmates."

"Oh, that's _rich_ ," Kawasaki rolled her eyes, greatly displeased with what I was saying. "Spend a few months around me, and all of a sudden you know me better than I know myself. Anything else you wanna enlighten me about, genius?"

"No," I replied forwardly. "I just want to know why you came."

"And am I obligated to answer that?" Kawasaki bit back sharply. "You think you can just run away from me when I'm at my most vulnerable, ignore me for days on end, and suddenly come back and ask me questions just because 'you know me?' Do you know how far up your own ass you sound right now?"

I felt myself growing increasingly defensive. "I'm sorry, which of us hasn't shown up to work in over a week?"

"Oh, my sincerest apologies," Kawasaki gestured dramatically. "I was a bit busy dealing with the _shattered_ _heart_ you left me with after you ran away from me."

I faltered for the first time. I already knew that I had left Kawasaki in a... less than ideal state of mind, but hearing it from her directly made me a feel a throng of emotions that did little to make me feel better about myself. I was still having trouble coming to terms with what I did, despite acknowledging it already— I ran away from her feelings. Plain and simple.

Like an idiot, my mouth moved before I could think of anything better to say in response. "I'm... sorry."

That just about did it for Kawasaki's cold and collected mask. "Oh, _you're sorry?_ Well, that makes everything okay then!" Her fists clenched angrily, and her eyes looked ready to pop a few blood vessels. "The oh-so-great and honorable Hikigaya has admitted that he's _sorry_ for what he did to me, and seeing as how he knows me _so well_ , who am I to stay mad at him? How could I ever hate someone so noble and chivalrous?"

I decompressed the building tension compiling within myself, and let her words wash over me like a violent tidal wave. I knew this was coming the moment I made for the door on the rooftop that fateful night, and I would be the first to admit that I deserved it. This was the punishment I was owed for my cowardice. Her scathing remarks served as retribution for my weakness, and even though I had been expecting such a sequence of events, it still hurt a great deal to hear her mock me so indignantly.

Yet, it wasn't even the nature of her words that hurt the most. It was seeing how upset she had become. Kawasaki's face had contorted into a series of sharp and angry scowls and glares that nearly made me flinch reflexively. The pure bitterness exuding from her was a great contrast to how I was so used to seeing her— silent, yet simultaneously composed, taking in the world around her with a careful glance while remaining effortlessly relaxed and in control.

It came down to the notion that seeing her hurting made me hurt too. Even before her sudden confession I cared for her a great deal— not just as a classmate or coworker, but as an equal in all aspects. She was able to seamlessly follow my (admittedly convoluted) speech and mannerisms, understood the feelings of isolation that came with being a loner, and was an overall joy to be around. She was one of the rare people in this world who recognized the faults that came with my character, yet accepted me anyhow.

And I had ended up throwing that all away, simply because I was scared of what she felt towards me.

Kawasaki was still shaking, and her voice steadily rising. "Do you know how much it hurt seeing you leave? I spent _months_ trying to build up the courage to finally confess to you. That night, I wanted to look my absolute best for you, and even though I didn't have the first clue of how to go about telling you how I really felt, on top of being scared and nervous, I went ahead and did it anyways. Because I felt that deep down, you really cared for me, even if you didn't show it all the time."

I wanted to stop her. Tell her that I absolutely did care for her, and that seeing her like this hurt me more than I could put into words. Tell her that even though I ran away, I didn't ever want her to go through something like this, especially because of my own idiocy and cowardice. I so desperately wanted all of her anger and worry and fear to go away, because a girl like her didn't deserve this kind of pain and heartbreak.

But I couldn't. My jaw was locked, and I felt my eyes started to lose the vigor they had when first falling onto Kawasaki's retreating figure. My earlier confidence began to evaporate— it had a habit of doing that— and I felt the beginnings of another guilt-induced silence begin to overtake me.

It was almost comical. Like clockwork, my trepidation and fear of change rendered me incompetent yet again. I would always try to convince myself otherwise, but in the end, I would likely never be able to shake who I was at heart. A spineless loner afraid of the very thing he desperately sought after.

My lack of a response encouraged Kawasaki to continue ranting. "Why, Hikigaya? I revealed everything to you. My feelings, my affections, everything I've been feeling for you for so, _so_ long, right there in front of you. I know everyone hates you for who you are and what you do, but I thought I knew better than they did. I knew that you were different than the monster they always made you out to be. You're..." the intensity of her voice wavered for the first time that evening. "... you're kind. You're smart. You're sweet when you want to be. You're so much more amazing then you give yourself credit for, and... I wanted to show you that myself."

The desperate anger in her voice returned as quickly as it left. "But apparently that wasn't enough for you. Is that what it was, Hikigaya? Am I not good enough for you? Do you..." Kawasaki's eyes started to betray the hard indifference they were exuding. "... do you think less of me?"

While my thoughts were still a jumbled mess, I absolutely wouldn't allow for Kawasaki to attain the notion that she was inferior to anyone. "No! Kawasaki, I would never even begin to think of you as—"

"Then why else would you reject me, Hikigaya?!" Kawasaki's mask fell further, revealing a more desperate look. "Am I nothing compared to the other girls in your life? I'm sorry that I'm not as graceful as Yukinoshita, or as energetic and friendly as Yuigahama! I'm sorry that those girls are so much prettier and feminine than I am, and that they get to spend all their free time with you! I'm sorry that I couldn't ever hope to acclimate myself to your tastes!"

She allowed herself a small laugh next. A soulless, defeated exhale of air that was anything but comforting. "I mean, I had to make a ridiculous request just to get the chance for you to be around me. To finally _look_ at me." Her eyes left mine and fell towards the ground. "You'll probably never know how happy I was to finally spend some time with you. I had so much fun, and I felt like... like I finally had a chance. Like I could make my dreams into reality. That there was _hope_ for someone as plain and unfeminine as me."

And then she collapsed, falling onto her knees before me, refusing even to raise her head. I could do nothing but stare solemnly, partaking in what had now become our shared pain and self-loathing.

"But I guess that's where I went wrong. Expecting more than what I could hope to get," Kawasaki's voice was barely above a whisper now, nearly all of her earlier vigor gone and abandoned. "It isn't right for me to hope for anything better than what I already have in my life. I'm not blessed with stunning looks, or great intelligence, or a lot of money. I had to work tirelessly just to even get this far."

After the briefest of silences, the dam broke, and the tears I didn't know she had began to fall. "I-I'm just... I'm so _tired_..."

I was never one for remorse or pity. Such an emotion was utterly useless to me, serving only as a means of looking down on others while giving the false pretext that you gave a damn about them. As someone who despised being on the receiving end of such an emotion, I thought it proper to never allow myself the dishonor of lavishing it onto others. It was fair to me, something I chose to abide by near religiously.

But as I stood there, looking at the crying frame of a girl I thought to be among the strongest this world had to offer, I felt the flood of guilt washed away and replaced with something more intense. Foreign to me, but powerful all the same.

Kawasaki Saki had to put up with so much in her life. It was hard for her to make any friends, doubly so for her to keep them around. She had multiple younger siblings she had to take care of, taking the place of parents that were never around enough. She worked a job that featured her performing tasks way above her pay range, while having to deal with rowdy and thankless customers that constantly tried their luck with her— some more aggressively than others. Her own dreams were constantly in jeopardy for the sake of trying to ensure the lives around her were filled with joy and happiness. She did all that without anyone ever stopping to tell her that she was doing a good job, and that she deserved a break once in a while.

She was so strong. Stronger than anyone I had ever met before. So much so that I had nearly taken it for granted. There wasn't any way I could even hope of functioning under such conditions, much less managing a decent life for myself like she had. Kawasaki was amazing, and I believed that sentiment with every fiber of my being.

Yet, as the tears continued to flow from her, I was reminded that she was also human. A girl who had hopes and dreams of her own. Someone with complex emotions and beliefs and ideals as nuanced as anyone else's. I was a fool for forgetting that. My own cynicism and ignorance had blinded me from the human aspect that made Kawasaki more than what her physical wealth and worth made her out to be.

As strong as Kawasaki Saki was, even she wasn't invincible.

My body began to move on its own. I was still scared, only this time the paralysis that normally acquainted my fear had vanished. My head was still a horrendous mess— there were still so many things I needed to understand, and so many feelings and emotions that I had yet to grasp in my lifetime— but for a brief moment in time, everything made sense. I knew what needed to be done.

My feet shuffled closer to her. She didn't register nor acknowledge my presence. Lost in her own despair and anguish, she remained still as I lowered myself near her prone position on the concrete and wrapped my arms around her.

We stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, silently basking in the newfound warmth we found ourselves sharing. My former cowardice and dread was forgotten, replaced by yet another feeling I didn't know how to describe. It coursed through my veins quickly, warming and soothing at the same time. It was new, yet I didn't fear it. It felt... nice.

More time passed before she finally spoke again. Her tears continued to fall, and her voice was coarse from the sobbing. "Wha... what are you..." she couldn't finish the sentence.

"You... you were right about what you were saying," I started tentatively, speaking in a soft tone I didn't know I possessed. "You aren't Yukinoshita or Yuigahama."

I felt Kawasaki tense up immediately, but I quickly continued. "I think you're different... in a better way. With those two, I can more or less know how they're going to act around me. They follow the same routine, talk along the same topics, and we all continue on with the same song and dance we've been playing for more than a year now. It's predictable, sure, but no one will ever get hurt because of it. Nothing will ever change, and we'll all carry on with the surface-level interactions we've always been having."

I felt enlightened. The words were spilling from me effortlessly, as though I had already drafted them in my head. In a way, I suppose I already had, but had just been too afraid to ever admit them to myself. In a rare moment of honesty with myself, those compiling thoughts flew from my mouth and into the air around me, filling me with a distinct level of comfort I'd never felt before.

"But with you... I don't know. I can't tell how you're going to act. From the moment I met you, I haven't ever been able to get a good read on you. You're an enigma, someone I can't describe with a few quick words. In one moment you're carefree and relaxed, and in another you're cursing out people trying to ask for your number." I stopped to think briefly. "You keep me guessing, I suppose is what I'm trying to say."

I paused for a moment, carefully thinking about how to proceed. "I think... I think that's why I ran away from you. Because you're something different than what I'm used to. You represent a massive change in my lifestyle that I have yet to quantify or label. You're more than a simple coworker or classmate to me— you're a whole lot of things that I'm not sure I can name, even now."

Taking a small breath, I unconsciously felt myself wrap my arms around Kawasaki a little tighter. "I can't defend what I did to you. It was a shameless, deplorable act that I seriously regret doing. Leaving you alone like that was the absolute worst thing I could have done to you, and no amount of words could ever make up for my own cowardice."

My own voice started wavering. "B-But... I think I'm started to get it now. Little by little, it's starting to make sense. That change that used to scare me so much... doesn't look as bad now."

Kawasaki's head, in a painfully slow manner, made its way up to me. Her eyes, red and puffy from the tears, looked into my own uncertain ones with what I could definitively say wasn't anger. Confusion, wariness... and the faintest traces of hope.

"I know I'm a dumbass, an idiot, and a coward, among plenty of other things," I continued. No turning back now. "But I'm starting to get used to all this change around me. I don't know how I feel about it yet, but... I'm willing to take a chance on it. So, until I figure out what it is that I'm feeling... could you..."

I felt my voice failing, and that familiar bout of indecisiveness returning yet again. But I knew better this time— I wouldn't allow my own complacency and fear to control me again. I would see this through to the end, no matter what.

"Could you... stay with me?"

There it was. As she had done with me previously, I had revealed myself to her entirely. There was still a lot for me to think about— I didn't even know where to begin in search of understanding what these new feelings were, and what it meant for me in the long run— but the fact that I was even willing to learn about them represented a momentous change for me. I could only hope that she didn't choose to flee from me in a sudden spike of nerves and self-doubt, but I wouldn't blame her if she did. That would likely serve as one of the tamer punishment Karma had in store for me in the near future.

But, as I felt Kawasaki slowly loop her own arms around my back, I had reason to believe that she wouldn't be running from me any time soon.

"You'll still keep me company to and from work... right?"

Fully acknowledging the sudden intimacy we were sharing, I replied with full assurance. "I will."

"A-and... you'll still talk to me outside of work... right?"

"I will."

"Y-You..." Kawasaki began softly, voice beginning to clear up. "You promise?"

I nodded faintly. "On my honor as a Hikigaya."

I didn't know what I was expecting, but a soft, genuine laugh wasn't it. "Don't s-say it like that, idiot... makes you sound dumb..."

I couldn't find it within myself to laugh— I was pretty emotionally drained for the day— but I could take the time to admire how much brighter Kawasaki appeared to be. Seeing her happy elicited an abstract warmth that I had trouble trying to contain. I suppose that was yet another mystery I had to solve in the coming days.

There was also the topic of Kawasaki still being seriously in love with me, but that could wait until tomorrow. It was getting dark out, and I doubted that authorities would appreciate seeing two emotional teenagers awkwardly hugging each other on the sidewalk past school hours.

I stood up first, offering my hand to her as I did so. She took it gladly, smiling as she did so. She didn't let it go after she regained her footing.

"I can walk you home..." I offered carefully. "If you'd like, that is."

Kawasaki's smile grew. "I'd very much appreciate that."

We started in the direction of her home, only to be interrupted by the sound of my stomach rumbling. A look at Kawasaki revealed her to be holding back a small chuckle.

"I... probably should have grabbed some more cake."

She nodded in agreement. "You're welcome, by the way. That was my contribution to the party."

This time, I did laugh. "Good call. Guess you know me pretty well after all, huh?"

We started walking again, and I faintly heard her response as we moved in tandem with each other.

"Anything for you, Hachiman."

* * *

 ** _That was long. Might be my longest chapter to date. Will have to check that out later._**

 ** _I can't recall if Iroha's parents are established in the light novel or not, so I took the liberty of making them into kinda-OC's. If they aren't established, fantastic, because I genuinely love writing Daddy-cop. If they are, well, I can only hope I don't seriously anger the OreGairu Purists out there._**

 _ **Sorry if this chapter was a little angsty. This is OreGairu, so I can't make everything sunshine and rainbows all the time. A bit of emotional drama does well for a story, especially if it's used properly. I hope you all found it to your liking.**_

 _ **I know this feels like an ending chapter, but we still have a few more chapters to go before I can deem this story a finished product. Don't worry, lots of fluff and cute stuff is coming. I have a feeling y'all will like it a lot. Stay tuned.**_

 _ **You all know the standard procedure**_ — _ **Favs, Follows and Reviews are greatly appreciated, I love all of the support you give me, such and such. We're almost front page, boys and girls. I can smell it.**_

 _ **Have fun and stay safe this summer. Wishing you all the best in whatever endeavors life has you undergo. Keep it cool.**_

 _ **~Slalem**_


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